So This Is War
by stay-goldKat
Summary: The sequel to Welcome To Vietnam. Pony and Steve are back now, but are they really? Pony is struggling. Can the gang bring him back before he drags them all down? Warning: drug use & language
1. Chapter 1: Welcome Home

So This Is War

Chapter One: Welcome Home

**This is the sequel to my story Welcome To Vietnam. I hope that y'all will enjoy this as much as you did the last! Prepare for another emotional roller coaster! Here we go in 3...2...1...**

The ride home from the airport was quiet. Steve went in Two-Bit's car with Kathy and Evie while I went with my brothers in our familiar rusting truck. My brothers talked to me the whole time, but I wasn't really hearing them. It felt... weird to be back. I couldn't focus on any one thing for too long before my attention would skip to the next. Everything was exactly the way it's been my whole life, but suddenly it all felt alien to me. If you could wake up one morning in a dreamland of your own life, I imagine you would come close to that feeling. It was the same, but different and you can't figure out why.

We pulled up to the house and in the driveway. It was the house I'd lived in all my life, all of Darry and Soda's. I remember missing the last step when I was five and skinning my knee on the same cracked sidewalk. I remember sitting on the swing on the porch watching the sunset with my mother. I remember the funeral, social services visiting, Johnny and Dallas, everything that had ever happened to me before I left. Now it felt like I was looking at a stranger's house, with a stranger's memories. I looked at it, and all I saw was a house that needed some work.

Two-Bit pulled in behind us and we all piled out. Soda wrapped me in another careful bear hug that I returned with one arm and he took my duffel from the truck bed. Two-Bit made Steve carry his own. We walked up the sidewalk together as a herd and I noticed movement in the window, the lights were on and shadows were moving around inside. No one else seemed alarm by this. I touch my shoulder where my rifle's strap usually hangs and I remember they took them when we were boarding the plane. I rub my sweaty palms on my trousers, trying not to break into a panic. I need my gun, where's my rifle, I need it.

Soda loops an arm casually across my shoulders and grins at me, not failing to notice my sudden nerves. He shoots Darry a nervous glance that I don't miss. I look back at Steve who's looking at the windows just as rigidly. How does nobody else notice this? I try to remind myself that we're back in the States now and they probably already know about the shadows in the house. They probably just invited a group of people over to welcome us back. They wouldn't let anything happen to Steve or me.

Darry swings the door open and Soda pushes me in. I don't see anything more than Welcome Home decorations. "Welcome Home!" They all jump out and shout. I force a smile and calm my breathing. My heart was thudding in my chest. I needed my gun, it would help me feel safe again. How can one carry around a rifle through the city streets of Tulsa without getting arrested... I look back at Steve and we share an uneasy expression, feeling the exact same way. Being safe would take some getting used to.

I cautiously step out of the doorway and let the gang crowd in behind me. All of our old friends swarm around us, welcoming us home and telling us how good it was to have us back. The walls are covered with the same decorations as the going-away party. Two-Bit's disjointed collage of celebration art cluttering the room. A curious sense of deja vu swept over me and made me dizzy for a moment. I hid it by staying perfectly still and stony. I made light conversation when the people asked me questions, but offered only simple responses while planning an escape route. Welcome Home! Thank you. How's it feel to be back? Great. How's the shoulder? Fine.

I felt like I was suffocating in this sea of people from my past. They hadn't changed at all. In fact, the only thing that was different here was me, and maybe Steve. He was being unusually quiet and stoic as well. I picked up my bag from the corner and hurried through the sea of people on my planned trajectory. I needed to get out of here for a minute, I needed time to process.

Avoiding the concerned looks thrown my way, I briskly walked to my room with my bag as an excuse. I gently shut the door behind me and looked around the room. This was the same too, maybe older because of the dust, but essentially the same. I tossed the duffel on the bed and sat on the edge. With my elbows on my knees, I put my head in my hands and took some deep breaths. Nothing was right. I wasn't right.

A few minutes later I was pacing with a cigarette in my hand. Ever since that one, I've slowly come back to my old habit. I'm not nearly the weed fiend I was when I was fourteen, but I smoke to calm my nerves. I crack open the window and let the smoke clear the room. Darry never allowed smoking in the house.

The door swung open and I see Soda come bounding in. He's happier than I remember seeing him in years. He frowns when he sees me smoking and shuts the door behind him. "When'd you start that back up again?"

"Back in 'Nam. I don't do it often," I tell him honestly. At least I didn't back there but there was less stress in country. Everything was simple, kill or be killed, but not here. If things kept up like they were today, I might start smoking more than ever.

He gives me a concerned look and says seriously, "I knew it was too soon. I told Two-Bit you'd need time to adjust, but Darry said you'd be fine."

"I am fine, Soda. Just not used to this is all," I lie to him. It's never been easy to lie to Sodapop before, but now it was. I wasn't the old Ponyboy, I was SPC Curtis, Ponyboy M. To prove my false point, I added, tossing my cigarette out the window, "C'mon, let's go back." He looks dubious at me, but follows.

The rest of the evening I spend socializing and letting the void take over, curing my anxiety and all other feelings. I know I seemed different from the weird looks people were giving me, but I felt better being numb. Steve didn't have the void and he was jumping all over the place. He would pace back and forth between people to look like he was actually doing something, avoiding all conversation of 'Nam. Sometimes he would go over by the windows and look for danger that didn't exist. I was on high alert too, but I had my stone composure that didn't let anyone see it. Our eyes darted all around us and occasionally met to give a silent conversation. We understood each other without words. Both of us were more than uncomfortable being home. Evie clung to him and he would smile down at her when he wasn't pacing. She acted like she understood his nervous energy and was content to let him be when he needed it.

At eleven the guests finally cleared out. I sighed in relief, but didn't release the void just yet. Having the people out of the house didn't change the misplaced feeling in the pit of my stomach. Two-Bit drove the girls home and was back now. I felt on edge now. Please don't tackle me, I'm running on instincts right now. There was a loud bang in the kitchen. Steve jumped and I snapped my head in that direction, both of us going into a defensive posture.

Two-Bit noticed first and narrowed his eyes. Darry put a gentle hand on my shoulder and I reluctantly relaxed. My big brother hollered at Soda, "Soda, what was that?"

Soda called back, "Nothing, just slammed a cabinet door on accident. Why?"

"Be more careful next time, little buddy," he answered. Great. Now he thought I needed to be babied. I could handle a cabinet slamming.

Steve said lowly, "It's fine, Darry. Nothing more than a little bang." I nod and stare down my big brother. I'd grown since last year and was as tall as him now. Darry backed down and Two-Bit whistled at the tension in the room.

"You two are gonna be fine. You just need some time to get back to things, we did," He says cheerily.

I roll my eyes and change the subject. "So where's T?"

Two-Bit grins and says, "Stayed home. I didn't want him barking at everyone and sounding any alarms." So he was thinking when he organized this poorly timed party. T-Bone barking would probably set me off, thinking irrationally that Charlie was lurking nearby.

Darry got off the couch and stretched. "Well, I'm off to bed, Pony. It's great to have you back little brother, you too Steve. Thanks for watching out for him."

Steve corrected him, "We watched out for each other. He's the one that took a bullet for me though."

Darry pales slightly and clenches his jaw, obviously not wanting to think about me getting shot. He looks at my sling and sighs. "I'll see y'all in the morning. Don't hesitate to wake me up if you need anything. The first week's the hardest to get back in the swing of things."

We both nod, intending to rely on each other for anything and no one else. That's how it was in 'Nam and that's how we saw it being here. We were both different, but only time would tell how bad we were damaged. Two-Bit stretched out on the couch and fell asleep watching Mickey Mouse. Soda gave Steve his bed for the night and I followed Steve to the room. I asked if he was gonna be okay and he nodded, asking me the same and me giving the same response. I didn't honestly know though. Soda curled up next to me like when we were young and I edged away once he was breathing lightly. I tried sleeping, but ended up staring out the window most of the time, on alert for anything. Everything that moved made me jump. I got up and went to roam the house. I felt like I was on watch. Maybe I was. Maybe I was like Tim. I could understand him perfectly now, going on watch and feeling out of place until he spiraled out of control. What would happen to me, or Steve?

**So, dull first chapter I know, but thoughts? **


	2. Chapter 2

So This Is War

Chapter Two

**Thanks for the reviews guys! Sorry it's taking me longer to update, it's difficult to write with writer's block lol! Also, I forgot to mention but all rights to S.E. Hinton. Enjoy! **

The next morning I was up before everyone, having not slept at all. Steve came out and joined me on watch at three in the morning. He almost convinced me to sleep then, but when I tried I still felt that nagging out of place feeling eating away at me. So the whole night we stayed up, pacing the house, and glaring out windows. The sun came up and at eight, Darry came shuffling in.

"Hey Pony. How'd you sleep last night?" He asks me, not awake enough to really examine me. I was still wearing my uniform. Granted, it was the only thing I had that fit me now, but you think he'd still take that as a sign I hadn't been to bed.

I shrug. "Didn't. Want some eggs? I just made some for Steve and me a half hour ago, I could make you some if you want."

Darry rubs his eyes and looks me over with concern, trying hard to wake up. "You two doing okay? I know it isn't easy coming back, but you gotta sleep. Where is he anyway? I want to tell you both something," he looks around the kitchen for the mentioned body.

"You just missed him. He wanted to stay longer, but he said he wanted an early start job hunting. Planning on trying to get an apartment since his old man officially banished him in a letter. That asshole doesn't deserve to know Steve anyway."

"Ponyboy, watch your mouth. I'll talk to him later then. So, what I wanted to say was something I hope will help. I know how hard it is to adjust after being over there for so long, and you two were there longer than any of us, but I promise it does get easier. When I got back from 'Nam-"

"Hello, Curtis family!" Two-Bit hollered, the screen door slamming shut behind him. A soft patter of paws accompany him.

I pop my head around the corner and see T-Bone. He barks excitedly at me and makes a mad dash to jump up on me. He knocks me back a few feet with his front paws and I hug him. Darry and Two-Bit chuckle at us. T licks my face and I laugh, pushing him back down. He stays close to me, trying to make me trip over him with my feet. I get down on the floor with him and wrestle him down just like we used to do at camp. This feels familiar and I have to laugh again as he gets out from under me and tries to pin me. I let him and push him off gently, patting his head and petting his course fur.

"I think he missed you," Two-Bit laughed. "Don't know why when he's got such great company like me!"

I grin and retort, "Yeah, well, can you blame him then?"

Darry laughs and Two-Bit rolls his eyes with a wide smile. "Good to have you back, Pony."

"So, Pony, got any plans for the day? I thought maybe we could all do something fun. Maybe go to the movies or something," Darry offers. I remember when my world revolved around the movies, and books. It seemed so... tedious now. Who wanted to sit around for hours staring at people on a screen living out their own problems?

My oldest brother looked so hopeful I couldn't tell him that. I thought up a quick, but honest, excuse. This one wasn't any more fun, in fact it would be pure torture, but it was more important. It was important to my buddy and I couldn't move on until I did this. "Actually, Dar, I kinda wanted to go see Marcia today. Get Roger's letter over with and out of my hands, you know?"

Both their faces fall at the mention of our fallen friend. It was just shy of a year ago, but he was a great guy. He was the only one of us who actually wanted to join and the only one with a perfect future laid out for him. We met in basic by chance and he quickly became one of my best friends. It was only too weird that we knew each others girls first. He knew Cherry through Marcia and I knew Marcia through Cherry. Now, neither of us had them. Secretly, I think it was all because I couldn't save him. He died because I wasn't able to patch him up and Cherry and Marcia probably hated me for it. I know I did. The thought of facing Marcia and giving her that letter terrified me, but I had to do it. She needed this, Roger needed this, I needed this.

Two-Bit nods sadly and T-Bone leans against me as if offering comfort. "You need a lift, kid?"

I shake my head. If I was going to go through with this, I needed to be alone. "Thanks anyway, Two-Bit. Maybe another day, okay, Dar? This is just something I have to do." Maybe delivering this letter could help me heal. I was fulfilling my friend's dying wish after all, getting a huge weight off my chest. It was the worst part of 'Nam leaving my hands.

Darry nods and I ask to borrow some clothes before I leave. He smirks and gets me a shirt and jeans. I never thought I'd see the day where I actually fit Darry's clothes, but I did. The shirt was a little loose because I'm not as broad as him, but it isn't baggy. It feels weird to wear civilian clothes again, like wearing a costume. I keep my tags around my neck and tuck them under the shirt.

Soda's eyes widen when I come back into the kitchen. "Damn, Pony, when'd you get so big?"

I roll my eyes. "I been growing for eighteen years and you ain't noticed yet?" They all chuckle. "Hey, Dar, mind if I borrow the truck?"

Darry scratches his head. "I don't know, Pony... You remember how to drive?"

I shrug. "We'll find out."

"Ponyboy..." He growls seriously. I smile and roll my eyes.

"Kidding."

Darry sighs and tosses me the keys from the counter. I nod my thanks and tell them all goodbye. They wave, Soda looking confused. I'm sure the guys will fill him in on where I'm going. Honestly, I don't even know how to get there. I know the address from all of Roger's letters, but I never made a habit of going to the Socs' side of town. I knew a few main streets, but none of the small back ones.

After driving around for twenty minutes in her neighborhood, I find the house. It's a huge, typical Soc house, nicer than anything I could ever dream of affording. I pull into the driveway and park at the end. Driving was just like riding a bike as it turned out, not something you easily forget. I stare at the letter sitting innocently on the passenger seat. I don't want to do this, but I have to. Stealing my nerve, I pick it up and take it out of the plastic bag. The bag was still stained a faded red, blood. I didn't know whose anymore, but it'd probably be best to deliver a clean envelope. This piece of paper would probably bring up enough painful memories without the graphic memento.

I get out of the car with the letter in hand and walk up the nice sidewalk to the door. I ring the doorbell once and wait at rest. A few moments later, Marcia opens the door. She doesn't look at all like the girl I remember. She's thinner, her skin clinging to the bone, and so pale she could pass as a ghost. Her hair is a mess, like she hadn't bothered clean or brush it in weeks. Her eyes have a faint red tinge to them over the black rings. The most dramatic change though, was the dead look in her eye. It brought me back to my early days in 'Nam when I would look at the old timers. Then I gained the same look, but it was so wrong on her. At least, until realization hit her and rage.

"Get the hell out of here, baby killer!" She hissed venomously.

I back up a step in shock. It wasn't what she called me, I had heard several hurtful names for us veterans. I was expecting the old Marcia, or even a grieving Marcia, but not a druggy in the place of my old friend. The Marcia I knew wouldn't speak so rude to a stranger, let alone a friend. Then I knew she blamed me. She blamed me for Roger's death.

"Did you fucking hear me? I said get the fuck out of here before I call the cops on you for murder. Yeah, that's right murder. You probably left him to die alone, didn't you? Or even shot him yourself! He was always going on about how you all had each others backs, especially you, so then why? Why'd you fail him, huh?"

I flinched. That hurt worse than getting shot. It drove the hammer home. I really was to blame then. It really was my fault that my best friend was dead. First Johnny, then Dallas, and last Roger. It had to be me. Quietly I tried, "Marcia, please. I did everything I could. I didn't want him to take point in the first place, but Ryan got hit, another buddy of ours, and Roger wasn't strong enough to carry him. I wanted to take point and cover for them, but he wouldn't let me. I'm the one who's supposed to be dead, not him, and I'm sorry for that. I tried to do what I could to keep him alive and get him back here, to you, but there was nothing I could do. H-he wanted me to give this to you though. I don't know what it says and I'm not going to ask. I hope it helps though. I really do."

Without lifting her accusing eyes from mine, she snatches the letter out of my outstretched hand. I really do hope it helps her. At least one of us has a chance for salvation, I know I don't. There was no explanation that could excuse I did- or didn't do. I didn't save him and now, well more than just one life was ruined. A man was dead, a woman turning into a ghost, parents mourning their lost child, and several people left without direction. That was all because I couldn't save Roger Smith. Just like I couldn't save Johnny or Dallas, or Andy, or any of those others guys that died right in front of me. They all had lives and futures, but because of my failure, they no longer had anything just like the people in their lives. Their families pain was my fault because of their deaths. So much pain... So much death...

I bowed my head and left in a hurry. I couldn't face her any longer without breaking down and begging for forgiveness that she would never be able to give. It was all my fault. I pulled out of the driveway in a hurry and slammed on the gas. All my fault. I made it to the intersection and punched through a yellow light. I didn't have time to slow down when the next light turned red. I tried to slam on the brakes, but the truck screeched right into the intersection. BOOM! A huge explosion collided with the passenger side, metal crunching and glass shattering. I slammed into the door and bounced off and all around. I felt nothing but pain and guilt. Everything hurt and I couldn't get my body to move. The lights went dim and all I could think about was, it was all my fault. I heard a panicked scream and slipped into a blissfully numb oblivion.

**Don't worry, it's not the end! Thoughts? **


	3. Chapter 3

So This Is War

Chapter Three

**I know, so many other fics have crashes, but this one was mine lol. Here we are, enjoy!**

I feel funny, like my body is filled with light. I struggle to open my heavy eyelids, but manage. The gang is scattered around the unfamiliar room. Everything is so bright, except for them. They don't belong in this white room with their colorful clothes and dark expressions. I think back to my essay and laugh softly. They look like outsiders!

They all snap their heads toward me, surprised I was awake. I know they don't understand my joke since I said it in my head so I tell them in a breathy voice, "We're all outsiders! Get it? Just like my essay. Hey Darry, I got an A on that. Did I tell you?" I can't remember much after the essay. I was fourteen when I wrote it, but that felt like just yesterday so how am I eighteen? I know that I'm eighteen so what happened for four years? Darry's gentle voice breaks me out of my silent debate. It wasn't important anyway.

"Yeah, yeah you told me little buddy. How're you feeling?"

Soda came over and stroked my hair. I leaned back and closed my eyes, thinking. I remembered giving Darry the graded essay and all of us reading it together. That felt like yesterday too. Everyday felt like yesterday. "Fine and dandy, which rhymes with candy." Two-Bit starts cracking up and I lift my eyes back up. I chuckle with him even though I have no idea what's so funny. I felt like I should...

Steve's familiar voice chuckles, "The kid's higher than a kite right now Dar. I don't think he's gonna be real conversation for a few hours."

I pout. "I'm real conversation. And I'm not a kite. Or a kid? I mean, I'm not a kid kite or kite kid. Hey Steve, can I have a cigarette? Smoke flies high!" A hundred different fragments of thought floated through my head and I just picked them out of a hat. I must really be on something. Nothing made sense, but at the same time the things that did made perfect sense. Like only knowing half of the quiz material but knowing that half really well.

Darry rolled his eyes and answered for him, "No. You ain't smoking in the hospital Pony. And you quit, remember?" Oh that's right. Darry doesn't know I started up again. I winced from the blunder.

"Oh, that's right," I lie pathetically.

Darry narrows his eyes at me. "Pony..." Just then a nurse comes in and cuts off his lecture that was sure to come. I looked at her tag, 'Jill.' She was pretty.

"That's a nice name, Jill," I smile up at her.

She gives me a small smile back. "Why thank you, Ponyboy. And how are you?"

I grin. "Just fine. Hey, want go fly some kites?" They all laugh like I've made a joke. I was serious!

She laughs lightly. "No thank you, Ponyboy. Maybe another time. I'm just going to check your vitals okay?" I nod and let her put the stethoscope up to my chest. I flinch as the cool metal hits my skin. She goes about checking my bandages and everything. Tight things I hadn't noticed before, and my sling still attached. I pull on them and she slaps my hand away. "Leave them on please," she instructs. I put my hands up in surrender and sink into my pillows. She was bossy. She address Darry, "Well, he appears to be okay. Some cuts and bruises that are all bandaged, slight concussion, dislocated torn shoulder. He's going to need surgery if he wants to regain full range of motion, but the doctor wants him to schedule an appointment for it since it's not mandatory to his health at present. The morphine should wear off in a couple of hours, but as a family member you can sign him out and take him home now if you want."

Darry nods and says tiredly, "We'll take him home. Anything we need to do to take care off him though? I know with concussions they want to wake him up every few hours, right? Anything else?"

She goes through some painful shoulder exercises and elaborates on the concussion. Then she leaves with her chart to fetch the discharge papers. A few minutes later, Darry is signing forms and wheels me out of here. Man, do I feel great! The crisp night air tingles my senses and makes me feel more alive than I have in over a year. I feel human, I feel young, I feel innocent, something I never expected to feel again.

We drive home and I continue to take the world in. It's like being reborn or going back to a younger you. Things that seemed foreign to the old you were new again and you felt at home. It was perfect peace in an otherwise battle scarred mind. Darry pulled in the driveway and they helped me stumble into the house. I wanted to linger on the porch to watch the starry sky, but they wouldn't let me. Soda helped me to bed and left me to sleep it off. I didn't think I would and I definetly didn't want to, but it happened. Darkness dragged me back down out of thought and into the rebirth.

The next time I awoke, Darry was making me sit up. I groaned and pulled myself up to a sitting position. Everything hurt. There was no happy light feeling now. All that was left was the gaping hole inside of me, consuming like a black hole rotting my core. He asked me how I felt and I answered honestly. "Like shit. What happened anyway?" I could remember, all too clearly, visiting Marcia's house and getting rid of that damned letter, but nothing after. I was driving...

"You don't remember?" he asks, concerned. I shake my head carefully. My head is pounding. "There was an accident. Witnesses say you ran a red light and a truck not paying attention, creamed the passenger side of our truck. Did quite a bit of damage, but Soda thinks he can fix it."

I close my eyes and it all comes rushing back, the sick crunch of metal crumpling, glass shattering, being thrown into my own door. A chill runs down my spine and I quickly open my eyes to escape the memory. I have so many bad now. I almost wish that I could go back to the blissful ignorance I felt when I was high on the morphine... No, Darry and Soda would kill me.

"I'm sorry, Darry," I say miserably. Everything was my fault and the list just kept growing.

He wraps me up in a careful, but firm hug. "Oh Pony. It's fine. We got enough saved from the Army's pay to cover the costs with no problem. Nobody else was hurt, so just you worry about getting better. You hear me, little brother?"

I nod against his shoulder. I didn't care about getting better though. My misery had nothing to do with my minor physical discomfort. The pain I had was deep down where nothing physical could ever reach. I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, "Sure, because that'll fix everything."

He pulls me back as fast as if I were a snake. "Don't you dare. I know what you're doing, Pony. Nothing that happened over there was your fault so don't you even think about blaming yourself. This was just a little accident, could have happened to anyone. I know that it only happened because you were upset about Marcia. I know that because you're blaming yourself and you were doing so well until yesterday. You know how scared we were when we got the call that you were in the hospital? Terrified because all I could think was, one of us should have gone with you. No one should have to deliver a message like that alone, but we respected your wishes. You didn't try to get in that crash, did you?"

"No way! I ain't suicidal, Darry," I growl. It was insulting that he would think that low of me.

"Look, I just don't want you doing nothing stupid like Tim Shepard. You're struggling, Pony. You and Steve both. We all see it, but we're hoping that it's something that's just gonna take some time. Your unit went through more shit than most, so I get that. We're all here if you need to talk. Just let us in, Pony," he begs, looking scared and brotherly. I felt a small part of me melt. I wanted to break down right then and there, knowing that he wouldn't judge me and he'd be right here to pick up the pieces, but I couldn't. The larger part of me held on to my stone reserve tighter than any leech.

I flip back under the covers and close my eyes. I hear him sigh, the conversation obviously over. "Night, Darry."

"Night Pony," he answers sadly.

Morning comes bright and early. I give up my restless sleep and drag myself out of bed. Nobody is up yet so I take the first shower and examine myself in the mirror when I'm done. I'm covered in bruises and scratches. My shoulder is a mess, deep bruises, strong evidence of muscle damage, and dark angry sutures. I get a clean bandage and patch it back up. I dress and shave, pulling my sling back on over my shirt.

My brothers are awake when I step out. I join them in the kitchen and sit down. Darry greets me with a steaming plate of bacon and eggs. Soda is already eating his covered in jelly. I shake my head at him and he grins around a mouthful. Steve is sleeping on the couch. Two-Bit wasn't here yet. Darry joins us at the table with his own plate and we make small talk around our breakfast. I take care of my plate once I finish and think about what to do. Nothing is appealing. It was hard to do KP with one arm, not that Darry would let me anyway, and there was nothing to patrol. I was sick of poker, although I'd gladly get out a deck if my old group was here because that's all we ever did and it was familiar. Whatever taste of home I had last night was long gone, leaving only the new unwelcome feeling in it's place.

"I'm going to go see Curly. See y'all later," I said, walking out of the room.

Darry stood up from his chair. "Uh, Pony... I don't think that's such a good idea."

I stopped and turned back around, defiant. "And why's that?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Well, uh, just that Tim might be there and I don't want you around him right now."

I snapped at him, "Oh yeah? Well he's out friend too ain't he?"

"Yeah, but he ain't himself right now-"

"So we just leave our friends to destroy themselves now?"

"Ponyboy, we ain't ourselves right now! How are we supposed to help him if we can't even help ourselves?"

"Well what about Curly? He's our friend and he ain't been destroying himself. We gonna leave him to suffer alone some more? Hell, his whole world's only been crashing down ever since Tim came home. Maybe even since Tim got the draft letter!"

"Ponyboy, stay away from them right now. I mean it."

"Darry, I'm eighteen. You can't order me around anymore."

"The hell I can't!" He shouted, waking up Steve.

I narrow my eyes at him, growing more livid with every passing second. "Watch me." I spin on my heel and make it all the way to the door.

"Ponyboy," he calls, softer now. "Just try and stay out of trouble alright?" I nod curtly and go on my way. I remember running the week of the draft. I'm in far better shape now even after the car accident, but I feel like taking my time to cool off before I get there. Nothing much in the neighborhood has changed.

Curly's house is even worse than last time. The grass was dying, more junk rusting into the ground. I saw the flamed out shell of the monster-mobile pushed out into the yard. It only completed it. Instead the driveway held two beat up cars, nothing special that looked full functional. They must have gotten hold of Curly's car dealer and offered up a trade: his life for the two junk cars to replace Curly's.

I hesitate on knocking because Tim might be home and the sound could startle him. I slowly open the door and let myself in. The inside might as well not even belong to the Shepard's. Tim is sitting on the couch, the cluttered coffee table in front of him. My eyes widen slightly at all the drugs and evidence of recent drug use. The entire house smells like chemicals and marijuana. Around the corner on the kitchen table, I see a random person passed out. Tim himself looks like a different man. He's pale, dark circle under his red eyes, stringy hair, too skinny. He's a worse off version of Marcia.

Tim looks up when I close the door behind me and it takes him a moment to register. "Well if it ain't Ponyboy Curtis. I haven't seen you in almost two years! Sorry to hear 'bout what happened and all. So how the fuck have you been? You just missed Curly, the dumbass is moving out."

I take a seat across from him, looking down to check for any stray needles. This was news to me. "Oh yeah? When'd that happen?"

He blinks his bleary eyes. "Today. Said he was tired of dealing with this shit or something. Whatever that's supposed to fucking mean."

"That's too bad. You know where he went?"

"Nope. Hey, can I ask you something? How bad was it for you, coming home I mean?" he asks, growing excited with a manic gleam in his otherwise dull eyes.

This was getting on personal ground. The Shepard weren't sensitive people in the remotest sense, but I answered, "Rough. It's like back there is home, y'know? Here feels like a dreamland or something. I keep waiting to wake up and pretend it was all a nightmare..."

He nods like it was what he was expecting. I never heard of any other soldiers with this problem. They all felt ecstatic to be back, as they should. "Which is why you're here. To wake up." Could I? The obvious answer was no way in hell. I should back out and leave now. That taste of morphine made me feel so good though, so alive. Here I was sitting in a drug addict's house surrounded by drug paraphernalia where I should be terrified, but I didn't feel anything but a longing to feel better. How messed up was I?

I don't answer and he takes that as a yes. He ties a tourniquet on my arm to expose the veins and puts the needle up to my skin. "No!" I say, jerking my arm away. Darry would kill me! Soda would! I would! Nobody in our gang ever messed with drugs, not even Dallas Winston because they were smart. I was supposed to be the brain of the gang and here I was actually considering it. I just had one question. "Does it make it go away?" I ask, afraid of the answer. I want it to say yes, but at the same time I need it to be a no. I can't take the memories anymore, what I saw, what I did. I need that innocence back, which is why I'm afraid of what I'll do if he says yes.

"Yes," he answers with a knowing smile. Shit. I let him take my arm back and he injects the heroin into me. It flows through me and takes me far away. All the pain and guilt is washed away like grime in the rain. Johnny, Dallas, Roger, Andy, and all those other guys weren't my fault. I didn't even remember who they were, and who wouldn't want that? I was changing again... Trying to find that lost innocence... That lost gold...

**Oh Pony. Opinions? Please Review! **


	4. Chapter 4

So This Is War

Chapter Four

**Ponyboy is going down the rabbit hole. This chapter is going to be in Steve's POV. Enjoy! **

Steve's POV

We've been home for two weeks now. I moved in to Evie's apartment last week to get out of the Curtis house. I quickly found out that no one wants to hire a Vietnam veteran so finding a job isn't easy. Soda managed to charm our old boss at the DX into giving him back his old job, but he wouldn't take me. People look at me like I'm the scum of the Earth. I know that I've changed and that I'm haunted from my recent past, but I don't think I deserve that. As much as I hate pity, some damn sympathy might be nice.

Nobody needs it more than Ponyboy though. He's struggling worse than me and I was almost convinced I needed to stay with him, but he had his brothers now and I had Evie. Not that I'd ever tell Soda, but Pony was like my best friend now. We knew everything about each other and didn't need words to communicate. The hell we went through brought us closer than the past ever could. Which is why it hurt me to see him like this. He was a different person now, more defensive. He wasn't eating much, in fact he ate almost less than the amount we got in k-rations. His face was getting paler and he had deep circles under his eyes that told us he wasn't sleeping. His behavior was erratic and concerning. One minute he'd be my buddy from 'Nam, the next a stranger who's volatile and impulsive. Something told me that car crash was only the beginning.

I open the door to the Curtis' and let myself in just like always. Two-Bit is sitting with T-Bone on the couch. T barks a greeting to me as does Two-Bit. I wave hello and plop down next to them, scooting T's tail out of the way. Darry is on the phone, sounding stressed, and Soda is leaning against the wall next to him trying to hear the conversation. "What's up?" I ask quietly, nerves balling up inside of me. Ponyboy wasn't in the room.

Two-Bit frowns and says, "Pony never came home last night like he was supposed to. Dar's worried. You ain't seen him, have you?" Dammit, we were back to that? The kid always had an empty head that drove me nuts. He'd be hours late for curfew, making Darry and Soda worry their heads gray. I'm worried now too because Ponyboy wouldn't do that anymore. He'd grown up over there. He didn't daydream or get caught up in a movie or book. Which means he probably had a legitimate excuse this time. Shit.

"When was he supposed to be back?" I demand.

"1700." It was 1000 now!

"Well have they looked for him yet?"

Two-Bit shrugs. "How the hell do I know? I only got here ten minutes ago! Darry's been making phone calls the whole time looking for him."

I back off. "Alright, sorry. I'm just worried, yah know?" He nods and I know I'm forgiven. We're all worried about Pony. He wasn't himself right now, either version, and he was out there in who knows what state. I stand back up, thinking of some places to look. Curly's place was first because Pony had been hanging out with him a lot lately, maybe he'd know something. "I'm going out to check some places. I'll be back in a few hours to check on things here." He nods and I pat T-Bone before leaving.

I drive over in my car that Evie had watched for me. It was in good shape considering she didn't know the first thing about car maintenance. I pull into the empty driveway and look around in disgust. This place was worse off than a junkyard! I hike across the overgrown sidewalk and knock on the door. No answer, but I'm not buying it. There's always someone here. I walk in. Someone very familiar to me is sitting on the couch, about to shoot up with a needle in his hand.

I sprint over to him and slap the needle away. It rolls away innocently. I shake the man by the shoulders, trying to shake sense into him and calm my thundering heart. "What the fuck Ponyboy? This is what you've been doing for the past two weeks? Holy shit!" I feel like I've been punched in the gut, like this is somehow my fault for not noticing the signs. He was like my little brother and here he was destroying himself while I didn't even notice!

Pony glares at me murderously. In a dark voice I don't even recognize he says, "You gonna give me a lecture or are you gonna let me go back to what I was doing?" He picks up the needle off the floor and I grab it from him, careful not to let the syringe poke either of us.

"What do you think? Fuck, Ponyboy! This ain't you, man. I thought you were smarter than this. I know it's hard being back, but you can't wreck your life over it! You gotta move on! If not for you than for your brothers, for the gang, because we won't just sit idly by and let you slowly kill yourself with this shit. I went through the same hell, Pony, so I know what you're struggling with. So why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" I didn't understand how someone so smart could be so stupid! He was ruining his life, killing himself in the process.

He makes a grab for the needle, but I push him back. He sits back on the couch and crosses his arms over his chest. He got to take the sling off early this week, but it was obvious it hurt him to move that arm very far. Bitterly he spat, "You went through the same hell, huh? You watched another of your best buddy's die right in front of you with you powerless to stop it? You were almost raped in a shit hole cell? You almost died four times not including having your life in jeopardy everyday for a year? You went through all that shit too Steve? I don't think so. So don't you fucking tell me how to live my life because this is the only thing that makes all that guilt and pain go away. Now, you gonna give me back my fucking needle?"

Who was this bitter and desperate man in front of me? He couldn't be Ponyboy, the idealist kid I grew up with who could bounce back from anything. He was right. I didn't go through all of that, but I went through hell of my own. Didn't he understand that? Or was he too selfish to see anything other than his own problems? "Shit, Pony! You're carrying around all of that? What happened to Roger was no one's fault but the fucking gook that shot him! If you're listening to that Marcia witch, let's not forget that she's an unreliable drug addict. You think you're the only one who went through shit, but you're not! I may not have gone through that, but I went through my own nightmare and believe it or not, I'm struggling just as much as you. The only difference is, I'm smart enough not to try and kill myself to take my pain away!"

He looks up at me with dead eyes and a cold smile. "So why don't you shoot up then? C'mon, Steve, it'll take it all away, just like you said. And it isn't death. I'm still breathing, and I'm happy, Steve. It brings back all that lost innocence and reminds you of what life should be like. Just try it..." Was he fucking serious? Yes, he was. His sales pitch is convincing, but I'm not sold. Evie would loose her mind, our brothers would loose their minds. Pony sighs and says, "Well if you won't then give it back. It's my life to throw away."

I know I need to save him. I can't let him do this to himself, but he's right. This is his life and he makes his own choices. Reluctantly I hold my hand back out and he snatches it greedily from me. I'm going to make him wake up though. I won't let him suffer alone. We went through hell together over there and we'll go through it here too. I watch, disgusted and devastated, as he shoots up quickly before I can change my mind. He lays his head back against the couch and peace takes place of his hard features. He does look better now, like the old Pony.

I finger a clean syringe on the coffee table littered with drugs. Tim must be selling the stuff. How did we get to this point? It wasn't that long ago that we were all smart kids who knew how to have fun. Then we get dragged off to a war and we become smart adults who still can have fun in a war zone. So we get back, and what are we? Are we dumb kids who can't move on or lost adults who grew up too fast? I look at Pony and his hard face that's currently hiding in the mask of a drug induced peace. I think we're the latter. We've grown up too fast and now we don't know who we are. Looking at him now, it looks like he's found himself for a brief time. I wonder if it really works like that, if he was right and it brings back that lost innocence.

It's wrong. I know it's wrong as I pick up the needle and tie off my arm to enlarge the veins. Just once. I just need to know if what he's doing to himself is worth it. I sit down next to Pony and shoot up just like he had. He was right about one thing, it does take away all the pain and guilt. I lean my head back and enjoy the peace that the drug brings. I can't help but feel like I've failed him yet again, but at the same time I know that it's okay because this is what he wants. He wants me to feel what he's feeling and now I do.

**Our poor boys! So I've never done another character's POV before, was it okay? **


	5. Chapter 5

So This Is War

Chapter Five

**Sorry it's taking my longer! Writer's block makes it difficult to update! Enjoy!**

Once we sobered up enough, around 0300, Steve drove me home. I'd forgotten I was supposed to meet my brothers for dinner. They must really be starting to worry about me if they got nervous enough to send a search party after only a couple hours of being late. As we pulled in the driveway, I wondered foolishly if they would be gray headed when I walked in. Steve pulled out as soon as I made it to the porch. The world still held a heavy dreamlike feeling, but I was coherent enough to think straight now.

I opened the door and was attacked by three men and a dog. If I weren't high right now, that would have scared me into a flashback. Instead I merely chuckled and disentangled myself from the group hug. They weren't gray headed yet, but they had deep worry lines etching their faces. T-Bone was whining up at me and I pet his coarse fur.

Soda spoke first, "Ponyboy, where the hell have you been? We got worried sick when you never showed up for dinner! You said you were gonna make it tonight." Darry crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for my answer.

Two-Bit continued, "Yeah, Pony, you can't just up and disappear like that."

I roll my eyes at them. "I'm eighteen. I'm sorry that I was late, time just slipped away from me, but I can take care of myself," I say roughly. I wasn't really angry, but I knew that I should pretend to be otherwise they might grow suspicious.

Gently, Darry joins in. "We know that, Pony. It's just that you haven't been back very long and you haven't been dealing very well lately. We know what it's like, kiddo. You can talk to us if you need to, just try not to disappear like that again, okay?"

Now I'm starting to get annoyed. He was talking to me like I was a wounded animal, fragile. I was anything but fragile. Didn't my experience in Vietnam tell them that? I was stronger than all of them, invincible. To prove a point to myself, I stride passed them towards my room. I hesitate with my hand on my doorknob and call out, "I'm going to bed. See y'all in the morning." That would effectively keep them away until then. I go in and plop down on my bed. I count down in my head: 5...4...3...2... Right on cue, Sodapop comes in the door to talk to me.

"Hey, Pony," he greets. I nod at him and light up a cigarette. "So... What's going on in that head of yours, little brother?"

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Sodapop, I'm fine. Y'all can tiptoe around me all you want, but the reality is I just need time. Alone." He gives me a sad smile and leaves. I know he won't be back for the rest of the night. Ah, finally, peace and quiet.

I get off my bed and reach under it for my stash. I don't need or even want a fix yet, but I feel like proving I'm invincible. It doesn't matter if I'm the only one who knows because that'll be enough. I dump a small amount of the white powder on my nightstand. Taking out my wallet for a brief moment, I fish out a dollar, roll it up, and snort up a line of the powder. It burns my nostril, but I feel the effects instantly warring with the heroin residue. The slow cobwebs in my brain evaporate into speeding bursts of light. I lay back down on my bed and enjoy my high, not fearing for a moment that this might kill me. Too much of one or the other could, but they'd cancel each out if I used both. At least, that's how I figured it. The only thing that mattered was; invincible felt pretty damn nice.

The next morning hit me like a brick wall. My head felt like it was about to split in two. The world felt harsh compared to the dream feeling. Everything was too hard, too bright, too loud. I knew better than to take anything so early in the day with my brothers buzzing around, they'd figure me out. I downed five aspirin from the drawer at my bedside. I heard a knock at the front door and someone answered. I couldn't make out who the visitor was, but I could hear the blunt tone in my brother's voice that meant whoever it was is unwelcome.

Fearing it's Tim, my dealer, I get up and drag myself down the hallway. A pleading feminine voice hits my ears. "Please, Soda, I just need to talk to him. To explain-"

Soda cut her off, "No, the only thing you need to do is leave him alone. Haven't you hurt him enough already? He isn't doing so great right now and the last thing he needs is the stress of you."

I step out of the shadows and join my brother at the door. In a low voice, I say, "It's cool, Soda. I'll talk to her."

He looks like he wants to argue. "Are you sure?" I nod curtly and he walks away. I join Cherry out on the porch. A small part of me that I keep locked deep inside begs me to forgive her, to just move on and be with her. The rest of me is filled with a bitter void that controls me now. Cherry beware. It's out for blood.

She looks up at me with glistening hope and sadness in her eyes. One look in my eyes has her looking fearful, but determined as ever. "Ponyboy," she begins, "Can I just explain? So much bad was happening to you all. I was hurt, and scared-"

"And I wasn't?" I snap aggressively. "I was the one fighting in a war with guns firing at me everyday! I lived that hell! All you did was sit around and worry about it. Well guess what, your imagination couldn't even come close to how bad it really was. The only thing that made it bearable was your letters, your promise. I mean, if you couldn't keep that then you could have at least had the decency not to give me hope and then crush it."

Tears stain her face. I want to punch myself, but the void controls me and it's not done. She sobs, "But Ponyboy, I'm so-"

"You're what? You're sorry? For hurting me worse than either of the bullets that got me, or for lying to my face?"

"I never lied to you! I did wait for you! I was there for you at the airport, but one look at your face told me you weren't ready to face me. Seeing you now, I realize I should have stayed anyway. What are you even doing to yourself, Pony?"

She reaches a tentative hand out to touch my face and I roughly grab her wrist, pulling her close. Her eyes widen, she pales slightly. "It's none of your fucking business anymore." I've never used that kind of language with a women before, and certainly never Cherry! She flinched as if I'd hit her.

Cherry ripped her hand out of my grasp. Angry, she spit back, "I may have messed up and done something I can never take back, but at least I know who I am! You aren't the person you wanted to be; you're lost. A lost cause."

I growl low in my throat, tempted to actually hit her. She wises up and turns on her heel, swishing her long red hair at me. Her expensive car fires up and she's gone. That last barb hurt because she was right. I used to detest men who would swear or hit a woman, let alone one who was on drugs and lied to everyone he cared about. All the plans I had were taken away, my life a big blank. Who was I supposed to be now? I didn't want to be this person I was becoming, but the void wasn't giving me a choice. I was lost alright- lost inside myself.

Storming inside, the screen door slams behind me. I hope my brothers hadn't listened in because so far they seemed clueless about my drug use, but Cherry seemed to have caught on right away. If they'd heard, it wouldn't take a genius to know what she meant. I breathed easier when I saw they weren't in the living room. Darry came in with a dish towel draped over his shoulder.

"Everything okay?" he asks timidly. I didn't often get this mad. There was one thing that would make me feel better though, guaranteed.

Roughly I answer, "Everything's fucking fantastic. That bitch won't be coming back. I'm going over to Curly's."

I expect him to scold me for my language, but he doesn't. "Will you be home for dinner tonight? Soda and I would like to spend some time with you. I go start work tomorrow and this is Soda's last night off."

Darry got a job on base as a clerk, pushing paperwork. He volunteered to be the Army's bitch this time, but his shoulder would keep him out of combat. I was glad for him because he was suited for the military better than anyone I knew. He was legitimately happy to have scored his job so let him. Soda was finally going full time at the DX. Both had jobs. Two-Bit and T-Bone worked at the factory as security guards. Nobody wanted to hire Steve or I. It had been hard for the other three to strike up those jobs, but we were fresher, tougher, haunted.

I shrug and pull my boots on. "I'll try." I don't wait for a response. I book it out of there and down the street. A car backfires and I duck. It registers first that it was only one shot, meaning the coast is clear, before it hits me that it wasn't a gun at all. I break out into a sweat as I remember where I am. Shit. As a rookie, I once thought it'd be embarrassing to have that reflex if I was the only one had it. Now look. I'm the only one who has it here, and over a goddamn car backfiring no less!

I throw open the Shepard's door and kick it behind me. Nobody's home. That's okay, I don't need him for this anyway. I toss the money on the coffee table and pick up a needle. I keep thinking about Vietnam, the early days when I was jumpier than a dog on the fourth of July. Times were harder then, almost shooting anything that snuck up on me. This should be the Army issued cure.

The front door opens again and I think about hiding the needle before I see it's Curly! I haven't seen him since before I left! He stares at me in shock. He laughs happily, "Curtis! How long you been back, man?" The chuckles die down when he sees the needle in my hand though. Tight anger takes place of the grin. "What're you doing?"

I ignore his last comment and chuckle, "Two weeks, man! I tried to see you when I got back, but Tim said you left and never gave me the forwarding address."

Curly's lip curls at the mention of his fallen idol. "Big shocker there. That sonofabitch can hardly even remember his own name most days. Now answer the question. What are you doing?" He stares hard at the needle and me.

"What's it look like?" I tighten my belt on my arm as a tourniquet. I'm not going to let him interfere with my healing ritual.

He slaps the needle out of my hand and it shatters on the ground. "My brother is a fucking idiot for mixing up with this shit, it's destroyed him! It's why I left. It's why my sister left. It's destroyed our family! I thought you had more brains than that!"

My eyes are glued to the ruined mess on the carpet. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

Curly sighs, exasperated. "Did you even fucking hear me?"

I nod, suddenly extremely pissed off. "Yes, dipshit, I heard you. You're bitching about how his drugs have ruined your life. Get over yourself. You don't like it, don't do it."

Curly punches me in the jaw and I hit the floor. My hands go out to catch myself on the floor, the broken glass piercing my skin. He grabs me by the shirt front and pulls me close to him. "Get over myself? How about you fucking get over yourself before you go and dictate how I live my life. I thought it'd be nice to see you again, Ponyboy, but I guess it's too late. My brother go to you first. You want to waste your life away like him, then be my guest. I don't even want to look at you again unless you're clean, got it?"

He releases me and I pull myself up. I laugh coldly. "You owe me money for my dope. You know, the whole 'you break it, you buy it' thing?" He gives me a disgusted look and punches me again. Warmth drips down from my nose. I sit back and pick up a new needle. I could always tell Tim that Curly broke the first one, he'd understand.

From the corner of my eye, I see Curly leave. I press the plunger and the world fades away. It doesn't matter that I've lost the love of my life and my best friend today. It doesn't matter that for once, it's actually my fault. The void is in control and it feels good to just let it all go. Nothing matters anymore, nothing but this peace from this drug. It isn't real and it never will be, but for once it feels that way. I feel everything I'm not; light, innocent, peaceful, and invincible.

**Things are starting to spiral out of control for our Pony. Thoughts? Reviews are always welcome! **


	6. Chapter 6

So This Is War

Chapter Six

**This is going to be another POV. I thought it'd be nice to hear from one of the brothers. Enjoy!**

Darry's POV

Sodapop was moving out. When he told me, I about hit the roof. It was about time that he was out on his own, but he was leaving me to take care of Pony all alone! Yes, Pony was old enough to take care of himself now, but he wasn't himself and we were all worried about him. He seemed to be on the mend which was enough for Soda. I understood why Soda was so ready to be out on his own and have his own place. He had a girlfriend and was a grown man. He was starting his own life. I just wasn't ready to see him as an adult , or to actually be on my own to take care of our drowning little brother.

I helped Soda find a decent apartment and we all helped move his stuff over on the weekend. I started my job at the base which worked me Monday through Friday, 0700 to 1800. His girl wasn't moving in with him yet, but I suspected that would happen soon. She was good for him so I didn't mind as much. We left them alone in the new apartment once we finished setting everything up. Pony was getting jittery again, something that seemed to happen every few days now. We said goodbye and parted ways. Two-Bit went home with T-Bone and Kathy while Steve drove away with Evie to their more rundown apartment complex.

Pony and I got in the truck and headed home. It was only about a fifteen minute drive which helped ease my nerves. I'd never get used to my brother being on his own. I nearly had a panic attack when I had to leave him in Vietnam! He did okay though, better than the rest of us. He was still Sodapop, only an older and more mature Sodapop. It didn't take him long to get used to being back and it didn't seemed to have changed him much.

Pony starts drumming his fingers impatiently on the dented truck door. His foot never stopped tapping. So it was one of _those_ days. Pony wasn't the same brother I knew, not even when we'd been in 'Nam. He was moody, defensive most days, especially on days like this when he was jumpier than a rabbit in a trap. Some days we got a glimpse of the pre-war Pony. One those days he'd be completely calm and like his old self. We even got him to a movie once on one of those days! The others though, he wouldn't do anything other than sit around an brood or just get up and leave. He was hardly ever home now. Some nights he never even came home, leaving me to lay awake in bed all night listening for his soft footsteps that told me he was alright. I didn't know where he went, but usually it was out with Curly. Or so he said. I wanted my brother back.

We pull into the driveway, park the truck, and go in the house. He clears the corners like there's someone lurking about. This is typical behavior for him ever since he got back from the war just like going on watch at night. The house already feels more empty without Soda in it. It's quieter and more peaceful, something that Pony can't stand now. I need to engage my youngest brother in something before he loses his mind.

I flip on the TV before he can get up to start pacing. I wince at the Vietnam headlines the news is broadcasting. I try to change the channel, but he's completely absorbed. Hearing about this again can't be good for him, but for the first time in a long time he's finally sitting still. I shake my head at his enraptured frame and go sit next to him on the couch. The reporters switch over to the live footage and the war enters our living room. I shut my eyes against the bout of nausea. How can Ponyboy stomach this violent reminder?

I get up to change the channel but he grabs my arm. "Don't please? I want to watch this," he pleads. He sounds so much like the old Pony, that I give in almost instantly. I've missed my baby brother so much. Having him home wasn't what I thought it'd be. I thought he'd move on like the rest of us and we'd be a happy family again, but it didn't work like that. This was as close as we'd come so I'll let him have it.

Refusing to watch, I pull out today's paper and start reading on the couch. He sits back next to me and relaxes in front of the mayhem on screen. You'd have thought it was a beautiful nature show! This can't be good for him. He doesn't budge though and I don't say anything, afraid to break the spell. Fifteen minutes later, I feel his head fall on my shoulder. I look down to see him completely passed out. There was no way the war comforted him! No it wasn't the TV, it must be the lack of sleep he's gotten lately. I will not believe that my brother is only comforted now by violence.

I carefully drape the blanket from the back of the couch over him. I let the news broadcast lull him deeper into sleep before hitting the power button on the remote. I don't want to leave him so I continue letting him use me as a pillow and make myself as comfortable as possible. Sleep finds me soon after I lay my head back.

Ponyboy stirs restlessly in his sleep. He wakes me up when he starts flailing around, kicking the blanket off like it was a snake. I quickly switch on the reading lamp by my head and he calms down. I was expecting to deal with a nightmare, but he was wide awake, trying to calm his ragged breathing. Concern fills me and I scan the room for anything that might have set him off. It's as silent as its ever been. Soda's light snoring used to fill the house at night, and now there was nothing. "You okay, Pony?" I ask, seeing for myself the answer was no.

He jerks a nod and runs a shaking hand through his hair. "Yeah... Just forgot where I was for a second."

I sigh, frustrated with myself. "I knew watching that news program was a bad idea."

Pony glares at me, his breathing even again. He's still pale with black circles under his eyes, but that's nothing new. "It wasn't the news, Dar. It's too... quiet. Did you know that the most obvious sign of an ambush is the silence of the jungle? That's why I can't get used to it. I'm used to the noise, constant noise. Silence means danger."

Ah, so that's what it was. My unit hadn't gone through many ambushes, so I didn't have enough experience to know that. I also didn't know how to help any more. I was doing everything I could, but it wasn't enough. I tried to keep him away from anything war related, I avoided all sudden loud noises, I let him know we were here if he needed to talk, but I was running out of ideas. It wasn't fair that a kid his age was dealing with this kind of shit. It wasn't fair that he'd seen more than anybody else I knew.

"Would it help if we left a fan on? That puts out a little noise," I offer lamely.

He shakes his head just like I knew he would. "No, nothing can help. I just need some time." Yeah, but how much time? I wanted to ask, but I knew there was no answer. He'd be ready when he was ready and I couldn't rush that. Still, I wish more than anything I could help him.

Pony gets up and announces, "I'm heading out." I look up at the clock.

"It's only 0300! Where are you gonna go?" I ask, worried. He shouldn't be out on the streets at this hour, but I knew he was stubborn enough that I couldn't keep him here anymore. I hated having my brothers grown up. To me, they'd always be the little kids I looked out for since the day they were born.

He shrugs. "Don't know. Don't wait up. I'll see yah tomorrow."

I open my mouth to protest, but he's already out the door. The glimpse of the old Ponyboy was just that- a glimpse and nothing more. I missed him now more than ever. I was alone here in our house and I didn't know what to do. I picked up the phone and called my girlfriend, Lacy. She should just be getting home from working at the hospital.

Ring...Ring...Ring...

"Hello?" her tired voice answers.

"Hey, it's me. Just wanted to check in on you, see how your day went." I answer back, trying not to spill my problems when she's obviously had a long day.

"Darry! It's so good to hear your voice. It was a long shift. How'd moving day go?"

I sigh into the phone. "I can't believe my brothers are all grown up! I knew, but it's like I didn't really _know_ it until now."

She chuckles lightly. "Welcome to parenthood. And how did Pony do?" She always knows. I sigh again.

"He's out for the night, just left. You want to drop by?"

"I'm on my way."

We say goodbye and hang up. Lacy was a single mother, divorced. Her mother watched her four year old son, Ash, on days Lacy worked. I'd been dating her for a few months now, ever since meeting her while I was doing PT at the hospital. I really liked her, which is why I haven't had her meet the gang or my brothers yet. I wasn't ashamed of either of them, but I wanted this to be something special. I thought she could be the one, but I had to be sure. Not many things were coming together in my life right now, but she was one of them.

**At least one of our boys has it together! Just a little brotherly love. How was Darry's POV? **


	7. Chapter 7

So This Is War

Chapter Seven

**I know, this is so sad! Are we all still enjoying it? I hope so! Back to Pony's view for a little while! Warning: Mature themes, and drug use. **

It's been a couple months now since 'Nam. Steve and Evie have been having problems. They're always fighting now. I think she knows what we've been doing, or at least suspects. I don't see him as often now since he switched dealers. I still use Tim, but he was using some cat named Charlie Adams. We'd use whatever we got our hands on, but his drug of choice was PCP while mine was still heroin. Any fix would do in a pinch though.

I haven't seen Curly ever since I told Tim about the broken syringe. I'd heard that Tim had beaten him up pretty badly though when Curly refused to pay up. I felt guilty about that, but I didn't think Tim would do that to his own brother! I didn't think Tim would do a lot of things, but he did. He would do anything for a hit and without one, he was downright dangerous.

I hear Darry's girlfriend come in the house and him greeting her. I wasn't sure if he knew I was here or not, but this proved he thought not. I think about calling out to him, but don't want to spoil his good night. When I hear them start fooling around, I decide to bolt out of there before it can go much farther. It's about time Darry had the house to himself anyway. I pack a small bag and leave via the window. I was moving out.

Tim's house is crowded with people when I arrive. I toss my bag in the corner and start to circulate. He throws parties like this all the time, inviting new people and old people to get high. He tells me it's a good business strategy. I could see that. First time users didn't pay, but then they were hooked and came back for more with friends only then they had to pay. I saw a new face for this scene though. Marcia was sitting on the couch, looking worse than last time I saw her.

She smiled when she saw me though and waved me over. Obviously she was already high, but to me that meant she was her old self. I walk over and join her, taking a hit from the joint she offers me. It calms me down and the world takes on a faint sparkle. She put more than weed in this. I blink a few times and hand it back.

"How yah been, Marcia?" I ask politely, not forgetting our last conversation.

She giggles. Her voice croaks cheerily, "So much better, Ponyboy! I'm so sorry about the way I treated you before. I wasn't right then. I see you've gotten better too." She winks at me and I feel like she can see the track marks through my sleeves. I pull them down to my fingertips. She notices and giggles again.

I shrug. "It's fine. So what've you been up to? I haven't seen you around this circuit before."

Marcia wrinkles her nose like a thought offended her. "Been living on the streets ever since my parents kicked me out. They wouldn't bust me, but they threw me to the wolves as soon as they found my stash. I don't care though. I make decent money on the streets and as long as I got a fix, I don't feel a thing."

"That's horrible!" She was selling herself just to get drugs! I'd never become that desperate. I had the savings from my military pay which was enough to keep me going. If it came to that though, I'd just give it up.

She shrugs. "It's just a gig like any other." She takes another hit from the joint and goes back to the giggly Marcia. "So what are you doing here, Pony? Working with Tim or buying from him?"

"Buying. I'd never sink that low as to work with him." Tim worked some shady deals. He'd sell to anyone as long as he could make some cash and get enough supplies to keep him going.

She nods and I start to get edgy again. It's time for a hit. I don't care now what she thinks of me. I take out the plastic bag that's rolled up in my jeans pocket and clear a space on the coffee table. Some of the first timers eye me nervously as I prep the white powder. I snort up the appropriate dose and feel it hit me like a wave of energy. Feeling generous, I offer Marcia one. She takes the rolled up dollar and snorts a smaller line. Her pupils dilate, the drug taking her for a ride.

I offer my hand and she takes it, standing up fast. We join a few other couples and dance to the radio. The music moves our bodies so that we're completely unaware of what's happening around us. Everything has a soft edge to it, a beautiful haze. Nothing could touch us and we could do anything. This was total freedom, from rules like law and gravity.

I don't know how long we dance or how long the party lasts. I loose track of things very quickly from there. I know I kept moving, but my brain was moving a thousand times faster and I felt like I was standing still.

When I woke up, the sun was streaming in the window. I look around and try to remember where I am. I left home last night... This is Curly's old room. Why am I in Curly's room? Someone's lying next to me. I look over and see Marcia only covered by a sheet. What the hell did I do last night? I carefully crawl out of bed and find my clothes scattered around the room. Shit.

I get dressed and shut the door quietly behind me. The living room is a mess from the party last night. Everywhere are empty bottles, left over powder, a joint here and there, ashes spilled over from the trays, left over people. I rub my bleary eyes and walk over to one of them. I poke him away and pry the beer bottle from his hand. It tastes only a couple hours old. The man wakes up and slowly sits up. He smells like he took a beer bath.

"Rough night?" I ask.

Steve blinks up at me and cracks a grin. "Hey, Pony! Didn't know you crashed here last night too!"

I smile. Shaking my head, I say, "Yep. The whole night. I'm moving out."

He stares at me for a minute and bitterly says, "Oh yeah? Well maybe you and me, we'll rent a place together. Evie kicked me out last night. Found the pills and freaked out. She thinks we need a break so I can 'get things together' or some shit. Whatever. She didn't give the ring back so I take that as a sign she just needs to get over it."

"Sure man. Tough break about Evie," I answer sympathetically. It would be great to be housemates again! I miss having each others backs like we used to. This would be a step closer.

Steve nods. We don't get a chance to say anything else before Marcia comes stumbling in, clothes disheveled. She comes up to me and slides her arms around my neck. Steve raises his eyebrows at me and I shrug. I didn't know anymore than he did really. I remember dancing in the living room and that's it.

She says in her scratchy voice, "You know, normally I charge for a night like last night, but I think for a friend I'll let it go for free."

I chuckle and giver her a quick kiss on the cheek before gently taking her arms off me. "I think I paid with a little coke, don't you think?"

She grins and hip bumps me playfully. "And a beautiful night it was. We'll have to do it again some time. I've got to get to work though. See yah 'round, Pony." Then she saunters off, stopping by the door to blow me a kiss. She leaves.

Steve starts laughing at me and I groan, burying my face in my hands. He gasps, "So, you and Marcia, huh?" He laughs even harder, clutching his sides.

I light up a joint, let him have his moment. It was pretty sad that I'd just slept with a woman who wanted me dead not too long ago. I inhale deeply and let the silky smoke caress my lungs. It slows down the world and paints it in a foggy haze. I let it go, watching the tendrils of smoke drift away. I still need to go tell my brother that I've moved out. He won't be happy.

I tell Steve and he calms down, still giggling about Marcia. I give him a hit which completely relaxes him. We finish the joint, passing it back and forth. After the effects wear off it's just about noon. It was a Sunday so Darry should be home. In Steve's car, I drop him off at the DX to visit Soda and head over to Darry's.

I walk in and he's sitting in his armchair reading the paper. He stands up when he sees me and gives me a hug. That's right, he didn't know I came home last night. He takes a whiff of my clothes and pulls me back with a stricken expression. Shit. I didn't think about the pot smell sticking to my clothes.

"Ponyboy... Please tell me that isn't what I think it is. Please, please ,please tell me that isn't marijuana I smell," he begs.

Sighing, I tell him the truth. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry, Dar. It was a one time thing. It's just that I was home last night when your girlfriend came over so I went out the window. I was walking along and found this old friend of mine and we smoked a joint." Well, half of the truth anyway.

"Ponyboy! What on earth is the matter with you? Drugs are never the answer! I'm sorry that you had to hear whatever you heard, but you know I'd never if I knew you were home. You could have said, 'hey, Darry, I'm home so knock it off.'"

Trying to act sorry, I nod sadly. "I know, and I'm sorry Darry."

He sighs, out of ideas for how to deal with me. "Just don't do it again, Pony."

"So, Darry, I was thinking about maybe giving you some space for a little while. Your girl could come over without having to worry about me at all."

"No," he says flatly.

"No what? I didn't even get to the point."

"I said, no you're not moving out, Pony. If your recent experiment with grass didn't tell you how you're not ready." Was he serious? It was for the best he didn't know about my other drug 'experiments' if he got this uptight about weed.

"I'm eighteen, you can't stop me. Besides, I already packed a bag and moved in with the Shepard's last night. Steve and I are planning on getting a cheap place, splitting the cost. Evie kicked him."

Darry looked mad now, his voice rising. "Ponyboy, how long are you gonna play that card? I'm still your big brother! It's my job to look out for you and that doesn't stop when you turn 'eighteen'. You can go when you're ready and I say you aren't ready!"

"Who are you to say when I am or am not ready? You're guardian job is over! I'm just trying to give you back your own life!"

"This isn't about me, goddammit, it's about you! Why are you the only one who's blind to how you're struggling? When you can get over that, then you can move out!"

Was it so obvious? I thought I was doing a good job of acting normal, careful to duck out whenever I started feeling not right. I was in control, after all, not my addiction. The void was gone, soon after I started in on the coke.

I storm to my room and break out my duffel bag. I dump out my fatigues and fill it with my civilian clothes, other essentials, and my stash that I keep hidden in my dresser. I stuff the pack to the brim and shoulder it on my good shoulder. I pass Darry who tries to make a grab for me. I smack his hand away from my arm. Darkly, I say, "Watch me." Then I turn around and move out.

I throw the duffel into the backseat and drive back to the DX to pick up Steve. How are we going to afford rent? Nobody would hire and our savings were running low. We had enough for maybe two months. I stop and Steve jumps in. I don't even bother to tell Soda. He had his own life now, he didn't need me. This was my life and my decision.

Steve and I drive from building to building, asking the managers about availability and rent. We probably looked like a couple of homeless bums, but we did find one. It was in one of the crummiest apartment buildings in all of Tulsa, maybe even all of Oklahoma. Some of the windows were broken, boarded up or covered with plastic bags. The main door had a broken latch so anyone could walk in. The walls in the lobby were covered in graffiti, the carpet mysterious stains that couldn't identify the original color, the mail boxes were dented with some broken locks, and the elevator was broken. The apartment the greasy manager showed us wasn't much better and I swear I saw a rat on our floor, but we took it for fifty bucks a month. Even that was asking too much. He gave us the keys and we went up to the fourth floor.

The apartment was two bedroom, one bath. The facets all leaked, especially the kitchen sink. The light in the yellowed fridge was busted, the tiled floor missing large pieces, and the cabinetry barely held together. The walls were stained, dingy, with holes and cracks. The ceilings were bowed and there was a draft. To shut the front door you had to slam it. Again, I think I saw a rat running across the floor the stained carpet floor. Half of the electrical outlets had burns around them, a telltale sign they weren't fireproof. Still, with all of it's unsafe and unsanitary charm, it was ours.

We locked up as best we could before leaving to collect some stuff. Steve took the groceries while I took the responsibility of finding furniture. I figured going to Darry couldn't hurt. I took the bus back to the neighborhood. I was right, my big brother had cooled off. I told him that we found a cheap apartment, and although he begged me to come back home, he offered some stuff that we needed. He called up Two-Bit and Soda. Within two hours, they'd found us three lamps, two mattresses and one bed frame, two cooking pots, and enough silverware, three plates, two bowls, a spare radio, a card table , and a cheap sofa. It took the truck and Soda's car, but we managed to haul it all over to the apartment and up the stairs. Steve was already back and helped drag stuff in. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough. It'd be better than sleeping on the floor.

The gang stuck around for a couple hours, chatting about how great it was we got our own place. It was obvious they were disgusted with the place, but that was okay because it wasn't theirs. They left for their own places, or in Two-Bit's case his mother's, around 2200. I was glad because this playing house stuff was hard. I just wanted my own place to shoot up in peace. Steve must have felt the same because after he locked up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag. I chuckle and pull out my own stash. This was what I really wanted. Not the energy of coke, or the dreaminess of PCP, but the blissful innocence of heroin. Steve greedily popped his pill, fighting off some inner demon. As for myself, I had nothing driving me but my own will.

I didn't mean to say it, but my thought slipped out, "I am in control."

Steve slowly looked up at me with blank eyes. He laughed hollowly and I knew he didn't believe me. Deep down, I wasn't even sure if I believed myself anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

So This Is War

Chapter Eight

**More from Pony! Things are going to start picking up pace from here.**

Steve was starting to sell to earn money. I didn't ask too many questions because I didn't want the answers. I halfheartedly searched for a job, but nothing came up. I tried to blame it all on them not wanting vets; it couldn't have anything to do with the fact I was a hood on drugs. All I wanted to do was sit around and get high. The only reason I needed the money was for rent and more drugs. I didn't even care about food. If I ate at all, it was usually only a small meal every couple days. Things were falling into their own little pattern.

Most nights we came home to our apartment and hung out for a bit. It felt like old times in 'Nam then. Once a week or so one of us would stay out on a long trip, but we'd be back the next night. He'd go out and sell in the afternoons while I'd hang around town or help Tim find fresh users. Every two weeks Marcia and I would meet up at the circuits to have a fling, the next morning just friends. I wasn't in love with her like I was Cherry, but being with her made me feel a little less lonely.

I open the door to Tim's and join the party. Steve was out working a different circuit tonight so it was just me. Marcia wasn't around yet so I mingled with a few of my friends. I watched them shoot up and desperately wished I could. I made myself wait for Marcia though. If she showed, it was never before midnight. I liked to arrive early to be with people.

To distract myself I switch over to badger the first timers. They start feeling the effects and I wistfully remember my first trip. The first is always the best. After that, you have to keep upping the dose to get the same high. Hence, users don't use just one drug.

Tim burst through the door, making several people jump including myself. Blood was splattered on his shirt, but it didn't look like his. I was the only one there who really knew him so I followed him to the bathroom to find out what was going on. He was slightly paler than normal, the bright red splotches in steep contrast. He pulled off his shirt and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink, looking lost.

"What's up, man? Who's blood is that?" I ask gently. The only marks on him were four shallow on his cheek like claws.

He ignored me and turned on the sink. Frantically he tried to scrub some of the blood off his shaking hands. His nose was running and his eyes were bloodshot. He was past due for a fix which made him dangerous. Noticing this, I take a step back to be safe. Tim catches it out of the corner of his eye and wheels around to face me, a hard and manic gleam in his eye. Maybe he's insane, or just high on something new to this circuit.

In a rising voice, he raves, "That little bitch of yours stole from me. Did you know? 'Cause I didn't know until Charlie told me that's why she bounces around the circuits so much. She just goes wherever she pleases to pick up whatever she wants. Well not mine! Not anymore."

Panic welled up in me. He wouldn't, right? He couldn't! Calmly I say, "What the fuck did you do, Tim?"

He laughs coldly, my stomach turning to ice. "I added her to the list the government started. I fucking killed her."

My gut drops to the floor. "No!" I roar in anguish. The first thing I feel in months and it's more pain. Since we're devolving to the recent past, I do what came naturally to me and dish it right back. I punch him square on the jaw. His head snaps to the side and he stumbles a few feet. He whips his eyes to me, a deep green fire of rage burning.

Tim launches himself at me and we roll to the floor. This was no playful wrestle. We were out for blood. He lands a punch to my abdomen and I gasp, memories from the POW camp flooding back to me. I would never be in that position again. Wildly, I fight my way to the top, pinning him down with my knees. He didn't stop struggling so I punched him in the face. He starts his manic laughter again, like he enjoyed the pain I was causing him. I hit him a few more times, blood spilling from his nose and mouth. He laughed through the blood staining his teeth. What was wrong with him? I was giving him what he wanted?

Disgusted and confused I fall off of him, he doesn't move. I scoot over and sit up against the wall. I take a deep breath and think about Marcia. She was really gone. I'd never wake up with her by side, the morning sun bathing her fair skin. I'd never hear her destroyed voice sharing stories of the good old days, never share her lovely drug induced thoughts, never have that reminder of a different time. She was my link to innocence. She made the experience more real. And now she too was gone.

Something wet fell on my cheek. I reach up and find a drop of water. There was no rain, this was not Vietnam, and she was not Roger. I wiped away my tears, dismayed when more kept falling. They dripped freely like a river when its dam breaks.

Growing in the distance, sirens blare. They're just down the street! I hear the panicked sounds of people from the party breaking up and bolting before it's too late. There's no time to hide anything! Tim finally gets up. He goes over to the coffee table in the living room. I'm not sticking around for this. I turn and bolt for the kitchen door with my stash secure in my pocket. I look back once to see him shooting up just as the red and blue sirens pull up to the front of the house. I dash across the yard with the sea of people, easily outdistancing them all. I jump fences and run across yards until I make it to the end of the street. Timothy Shepard deserved whatever he got, and deserved worse. Killing Marcia was unforgivable.

Casually, I walk on the sidewalk and follow the familiar streets to Darry's. The lights are still on and I hear laughter from the screen door so I figure the gang is all here. I smooth out my hair and wipe away any trace of the tears. I can pray I don't look too bad as I walk in. The guys are playing poker. They look up in surprise but all rush over to greet me with a big hug. I haven't been by in a week.

"Hey y'all," I greet. A big furry mass breaks through the men and tackles me. How could I have neglected T-Bone? "Hey, T!" He barks happily, wagging his tail, and I reach down to rub his head.

Darry slaps me on the back with a huge grin like I've just made his day. "Long time no see, kid! How've you been little brother?" Soda messes up my hair, wanting to know the same.

I grin, forgetting my troubles for the moment. "Just fine, Darry. Same old same old, you know? How about y'all?"

The phone interrupts us and Darry goes over to answer it. We leave him to deal with it and go back to the conversation. Soda says, "Just fine, Pony. My girl just moved in with me this week so we've been celebrating. I'd have called, but seeing as y'all don't have a phone..."

I chuckle. They knew the reason was because they were too expensive, but another reason was also because we didn't want to worry about the phone ringing when we were tripping. "Congrats, Soda!"

Two-Bit comes over from the kitchen and hands me a beer. He eyes me carefully and whistles low. "Damn, those are some tough bruises forming kid. What happened?"

Shoot, I forgot about my fight with Tim. It was less of a fight and more of a beating, but he did manage to get in a few licks. Concerned, Soda leans back to get a better view. From his other angle he couldn't see them. I gloss over the truth, "I was at the Shepard's. Tim and me got into it right before the cops came and hauled him in for murder. I beat it out of there before they knew I was there so don't worry."

Their mouths dropped. Two-Bit sputtered, "Tim? Murder? Jesus! Who was it?"

I look down at the ground and answer quietly, "Marcia."

Soda pats my back and I look up at him. He offers a sympathetic smile which I return. They don't ask for any further explanation for which I am grateful. They didn't know anything about our odd relationship. In fact, they probably still thought she hated my guts and we haven't spoken since. It would have been easier if that were the case.

Darry comes back into the room looking grim and I brace myself. Surely word hadn't traveled that fast! "That was Steve. He just called from the police station. Apparently Evie came to bail him out, but she wouldn't give him a ride. Even gave him back the ring and said it was over. He's got a hearing next week so we may not be in the clear yet. Sounds like it was pretty serious. Pony, you know anything about this?"

That he got hauled in? Absolutely not. Why he got hauled in? Probably I did. I shrug in disbelief. "I had no idea! We weren't supposed to meet up tonight or anything and he never said what he was gonna be doing." Darry nods like that's what he was expecting.

Soda, in shock, demands, "Did he say what for?"

Darry shakes his head. "Sorry little buddy. That's all I know." Soda growls in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. Two-Bit sighs and picks up the leash.

"So are we gonna go get him?"

We all pile into the dented truck and pick up a very agitated Steve. He was pacing like a caged lion with a vendetta when we pulled up alongside him. He hopped in without a word. We get back to the house and flip on the television for some background noise. No one wanted to play cards now.

Soda prodded him first. "So what'd they haul you in for?"

Steve laughed bitterly, "Those bastards hauled me in for selling narcotics! Can you believe it?"

My eyes bulge and my jaw drops. I hold my breath and gauge my brothers reactions. They're going to put it together. They'll know what we've been doing. I'm sure they half suspected us already just from out behavior. All they needed was a word to put to it. One little word that Steve just gave to them. Drugs.

Soda and Two-Bit laughed. "You selling drugs! Those idiots! Clearly those cops don't know you 'cause you'd never have anything to do with something so stupid as drugs."

Holy shit, they bought it. Steve chuckles nervously, "Yeah, I know. It's insane!"

Darry doesn't say anything. He's looking at the two of us, trying to find out what we've been hiding. I feel a light sweat break out on my back. He knows! Stupid Steve for blurting something out like that! When we get back to the apartment, I'm going to scream his ear off. I'd do it now, but incriminating evidence and all.

My oldest brother goes over to the table and sits to shuffle the deck. "Who's in?" he casually asks. We all join him at the table and play for the next three hours. I forgot how good a time we have, and all without drugs. I was getting due for another fix though. The only thing that kept me level this long was all the stress. It's kept my mind off of it. At the end of the last hand I was getting jittery. Steve noticed and kicked me under the table. All I have to do is keep cool for a little longer.

Two-Bit wins and collects the cash. T-Bone is crashed on the floor by his feet. I stand up quickly, ready to go, when I remember that we don't have transportation. "Shit," I hiss under my breath. They all look up at me of course. I scratch the back on my head roughly and feebly explain, "Well I just remembered that Steve didn't have his car with him when they picked him up. Or did you?" He shakes his head. I thought not since he needed a ride from the station.

Darry frowns. "Don't be silly. It's late, you two can crash here. Pony, your room is still set up from when you left. Steve, there's Soda's old room or the couch. Take your pick."

Soda pipes up, "Hey and I'll stay over too. We can all sleep over, just like old times. What do you say, Two-Bit?"

Please say no. Two-Bit pockets his wallet. "Sure. Tomorrow is an off day for me."

I force a smile. "It'll be just like old times." Only I'll be freaking out the whole time and trying stay straight. I was never gonna make it without a fix.

We all settle in for the night. Two-Bit and T take the couch, Steve takes Soda's old room, Darry has his own room, and Soda and I share my old room. I didn't want to, but there wasn't any excuse I could come up with that wouldn't sound bullshit. Soda lays out on the bed and I excuse myself to the restroom. I turn on the shower to buy some time and flip the lock. I wipe my nose which is starting to run. I rub my eyes to focus and get my thoughts together. Darry's medicine cabinet is pretty standard, nothing heavy duty. Wait a second... Behind a bottle of old cough medicine is a bottle of painkillers from when Darry tore his shoulder in 'Nam. That's just what I need, a little pick me up.

I take two and switch off the water. I go back to the room and crawl in bed. Soda rolls over to look at me. Thankfully it was too dark for him to see my eyes and I was feeling much more relaxed so there wasn't anything for him to be suspicious about. "How'd you take a shower and keep your hair so dry?" Except for that.

I rub my nose again. "I didn't. I was going to, but I'm really tired so I'm just gonna go to sleep," What a pathetic lie! I'll never know how my brothers don't see right through me.

He shrugs, taking my word for it. He rolls over and quickly falls asleep. Thanks to the lethargic effect of the medication, I was out soon too. It had been a busy day for me. So much that I couldn't even mourn Marcia properly. I'd actually forgotten about her several times already! How could I forget such a big part of my life? Maybe because it was gone in a flash just like all the other parts. Good and bad things had a tendency to come and go just as fast. Maybe one day I'll find something good that sticks. I already have one bad thing that clings like a second skin, if tonight is any clue; the drugs. I wasn't an addict, but I couldn't deny I had a problem.

**Tragedy strikes again! But it has opened a tiny door. Pony felt something! That's good, right? Reviews please! **


	9. Chapter 9

So This Is War

Chapter Nine

**Hello to Darry again! I'm sorry this story is so depressing! Though it is fiction, I'm trying to make it as real as possible. I know it's not a pretty picture. So I hope y'all are still enjoying!**

Darry's POV

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich when the front door opened and my kid brother Soda walked in. "Hey," I greeted him cheerfully. It was lonely without my brothers here. Two-Bit and Soda tried to come over as often as they could, but it wasn't the same. Pony and Steve hardly ever came over now. Maybe once in two weeks. After Marcia passed, Pony was keeping even more distant and Steve dreaded his trial.

"Hey. I got some news, Dar. You might want to sit down," he begins nervously. Now I'm concerned. I sit down slowly and eye him for any physical ailment. Everything appears normal. He wouldn't be this calm if it were one of the boys so...

"Everything okay little buddy?" I ask, scared. These boys would be the death of me. Or at the very least, give me gray hair or an ulcer.

Soda nods and gives me a small smile. He sits across from me at the table, tapping his foot under the table. He takes a deep breath. "So... I'm gonna be a father. She came by the DX to tell me this morning, said she even went to the doctors and it's official."

I blink once, letting it absorb. Shock turns to anger. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis! What were you thinking? Didn't I tell you over and over to be careful! You ain't even married yet! Now you're gonna have a kid? Have you thought this through? What are you gonna do?"

My brother pales, but as cool and determined as ever, he says, "Yes, I know. I screwed up. It's okay though. I mean, I'm more scared than I've ever been in my life, but I love her. I'm gonna marry her before the baby is born, try to get a management position at the DX, and do what's right by the baby. I ain't been thinking of nothing else since I heard. I just- I don't know how I'm gonna do it, Darry. I'm real sorry I let you down." He looks down at his hands, looking so scared and helpless that I can't stay mad at him. He made a mistake, but he was gonna do right by it. My brother, a father at twenty-one. Gulp. That's a reasonable age, but he'll always be my kid brother.

I stand up and go over to him. I wrap my arms around his adult frame, trying to remind myself that he was old enough to handle this. He returns my hug tightly. "It's gonna be okay little buddy. It's gonna be okay. We're all here for you if you need us, but you won't. I know you'll do great." He nods and I let him go. He wipes his moist eyes and I give him a goofy grin like he usually does. He smiles a real Soda smile and I know everything is going to be okay. He'll make a great husband and a great father, just like our dad.

We called Two-Bit and gave him the news. He cheered and said we'd throw a great party in his honor, no alcohol for the expecting mother of course, but extra for Soda. He was working tonight so he couldn't come with us to tell Pony the news. I was amazed how Two-Bit had avoided getting hitched to his fiance so far, but I knew the real reason was he wanted Pony to be his best man. The best man has to be right in the head first. No matter how hard we all tried, we couldn't seem to get him out of this rut he'd fallen in. Two-Bit was taking it pretty hard, but he wasn't going to give up without a hell of a fight.

Steve's trial was yesterday. The judge found him guilty and sentenced him to six months. He was lucky that it was only six months, but the judge was nice since it was his first real offense. I didn't buy his whole innocent story either. I knew something was up with him and this proved it. It was hard to see him selling or using drugs, but it fit the clues. He was a different person who didn't have anything to lose. Soda refused to believe that his best friend could do something like that right under his nose.

My brother and I drive over to Pony's with the music blaring. We pull into the shabby parking garage and lock the doors behind us. This is a shady area of town and the worst apartment building I'd ever seen. I knew Pony just wanted to get out and be on his own, but I wish he'd chosen a more sanitary place. One that wasn't on the verge of being condemned. We walk up the four flights of stairs and to his door. Knock, Knock. No answer. I knock a little harder in case he didn't hear me, but again no answer. I thought I saw movement under the door though.

"Hey, Pony, you in there? We got some news for you," I say loudly to the door. Soda sighs and we give up. He's either not home or not going to answer. We shrug at one another and go back to the truck.

The next night we come with Two-Bit. I see Steve's car that he left to Pony temporarily. Surely he's home this time. We go up and knock again. I hear movement from within, but no one answers the door.

Soda calls, "Pony, we know you're in there. We just want to talk. Open up, little brother."

Two-Bit bangs on the door. "Hey, hey, Ponyboy!"

Someone slides down on the other side and I can see their shadow sitting on the floor. Soft sobs slip through the crack. I'd know those sobs anywhere. I bang hard on the door, panicked now. He never cried and certainly not without reason! "Ponyboy? What's the matter? C'mon Ponyboy, open the door. We can't help if you won't let us in," I plead.

Soda and Two-Bit share a terrified look. He wouldn't do anything stupid, would he? No, he was just upset about something. It was probably because Steve had been sent away. He was broken up about Steve getting hauled in for drugs. This wasn't Ponyboy's fault. He was a smart kid. He'd never do anything stupid.

"Please, Pony," Soda begs. My heart goes out to him. Here he was, scared out of his mind about being a husband and father soon, and the one person he wanted to share the news with was locked up in his apartment. We couldn't do anything from this side of the door. If this was Pony's room at the house, I would break down the door just to make sure he was okay, but I couldn't do that now.

The shadow under the door moves away, as does the sobbing sounds. I know he's still in there. We keep at it for fifteen minutes until one of his neighbors comes out in their robe and threatens to call the cops. Disheartened, we leave. This was supposed to be good news, not bad. Why couldn't Pony ever catch a break?

The boys go to their homes and leave me with an empty house. I sigh and sit in my armchair. I pull up the paper just as the phone rings by my arm. I pick up. "Hello?"

A sweet and familiar voice answers, "Darry! How was your day?"

I smile at the thought of my Lacy, even though my evening had been terrible so far. "Long. How about yours?"

She chuckles through the line. "Also long. Hey, look I have a huge favor to ask of you."

I lean back in my chair. "Shoot."

"Well, the hospital is calling me in to work a double shift, but my mom can't watch Ash in the evening because she has an appointment. Is it asking too much if you'd be able to watch him for a few hours?" she asks tentatively.

"Of course! It's fine, Lace. We'll have all kinds of fun. What time should I expect him?"

"Is four alright? I should get off work at ten. He usually goes to bed at eight."

"It's fine, really. You don't even need to ask twice. I'll see you tomorrow."

We chat idly for a few minutes before hanging up. Both of us were too tired to actually hold a conversation right now, but it was nice to hear her voice if even for those few minutes. I set the paper aside for the night and go to bed. I start work at 0500 which means I have to get up at 0400. I pray that Ponyboy is alright. The thought keeps me up for at least an hour. People just didn't behave like that without a reason. An uneasy sleep finds me.

Work is long. I enjoy it and it's fairly easy, but I wanted to check on Pony. I wouldn't have long after I got off work before Ash would show up at the house. If only Pony had a phone, life would be so much easier. I could be talking to him right now if he did. I watch the clock tick by slowly. Finally I'm able to clock out. I leave the base and drive straight over to Pony's apartment.

He opens the door when I knock this time. I sigh in relief when I see he's well. As well looking as he ever is anyway. He was pale, thin, dark circles around his red eyelids, eyes slightly glassy like he just woke up. His vacant eyes snap to life when they see me though. I look down and remember I'm wearing my fatigues.

"What's up, Darry?" he asks groggily. Did he really not remember last night? I want to shake him for worrying the daylights out of me like that. Instead, I just take it as a blessing that he's okay.

" You scared me last night kiddo. I just wanted to check up on you. How you holding up?" I explain gently. He isn't half as fragile as I tend to treat him, but it's only because I care.

Pony scratches the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry about that. I had a few drinks last night and I guess I got a little emotional. What was it you guys wanted?"

"That's not for me to say, Pony. It's Soda's news. He was looking forward to telling you himself so I'll let him have the honor. You better come over sometime soon though. Tonight I'm watching Ash, but I could call Soda over."

"I got plans too. I'll try to stop by tomorrow, okay?" He always has plans anymore. Half of the time he couldn't even remember the plans he made with us.

I didn't put a lot of stock into it, but I nod anyway. "You be sure and do that. I'll let you go now so I can get over to the house before Ash. I'm glad you're okay, Pony."

He gives me a sleepy smile, "Sure thing, Dar. I'll see yah 'round."

The door slowly closes and I leave. Lacey's mom is right on time with Ash. She gives me basic instructions and leaves me with the four year old. We share a smile and I put him down to run around. He gets bored after an hour so I find him something to do. I find a colored pencils in Pony's old desk and some paper. I sit with Ash at the coffee table and we color. I draw a funny looking horse and show it to him. I never was the artist. He giggles at my picture and shows me his. It's a well drawn house with three smiling people in front of it. One is obviously Lacey, holding his hand. He explains, "That's Mommy, and that's me, and that's you, Daddy."

I correct him, "It's Darry. Remember, Ash?" He grins at me like I've just told a joke. "But that's a very beautiful picture. I wish I could draw like that."

Ash laughs happily. "I like yours better, Daddy." He stares down at my paper with genuine confusion. "Uh, what is it?"

My heart melts. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be that little boy's daddy. He was sweet, smart, funny, and everything I imagined my own little boy would be like. I loved him just like I loved his mommy. Maybe one day I would be a part of their little family. One day when we were ready.

**Awww! So sweet! Isn't Ash cute? **


	10. Chapter 10

So This Is War

Chapter Ten

Sodapop's POV

I survey the scene around us and decide this is as good a spot as any. My girlfriend and I are at the park. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the green grass is soft despite the July heat. We're on a little hill that overlooks the green field. This is a good place to celebrate the Fourth of July. This is a good place to propose to the love of my life.

Setting the basket aside, I unfold the checkered blanket and lay it out on the ground. My girl picks up the basket and moves it to a corner as an anchor. The gang would be here soon, but I told them I wanted a little alone time to go through with my plans. She takes off her shoes and sits next to me on the blanket, straightening out her dress. Her belly is starting to show her baby bump. Filled with joy, I place a hand over her belly and lean over to kiss her sweetly. What was better than having the woman you love carrying your child?

She giggles and I pull away with a dancing smile on my lips. I dig through the basket for two sandwiches. We eat quietly, happily watching the crowd of people bustle about in the park. Everyone got here early to picnic before the firework display. I saw an elderly couple strolling through the crowd, hand in hand. We could be like that, her and I. I look over at her watching the same old couple with a wistful smile on her face. I wonder if she's thinking the same thing.

I pull out a bottle of sparkling grape juice and two glasses. She laughs which always puts a huge grin on my face. I pour our glasses and hand her hers. Her smile lights up the world, making me suddenly nervous. What if she said no? I take a deep breath to summon my courage. I raise my glass and say, "A toast, to the most amazing woman I've ever known and the mother of my child. No man could ever ask for more." I dig through my pocket for the little box and continue, "But here I am: Asking just one more thing. Would you marry me? I promise to always take care of you and the baby, to do my best to keep that glowing smile on your face. I've never loved anyone more than you, and I never will."

Tears sparkle in her eyes. She chokes out, "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you, Sodapop Patrick Curtis!" She throws her arms around me and I laugh joyously. This was the happiest moment in my life. The only thing I could imagine to top it would be the day our child would be brought into this world. I feel like the luckiest man in the world, and I am. She draws back and I put the ring on her finger, a perfect fit.

A half hour later, the gang found us. Ponyboy was with them. I get up and hug my baby brother, pleased to see some progress. He looked uncomfortable, but he was out with us instead of holing up in his apartment or at the house. He even offered me a small smile! We all sit on the blanket. Ash is on Darry's lap and Lacey is snuggled close to my big brother. They look like such a happy little family, I can't help but feel overjoyed for him. Two-Bit has his arm wrapped around Kathy's shoulders, T-Bone laying next to them with his head on Kathy's ankles. I had my arm curled around my fiance's waist. Ponyboy sits a little apart, scratching at his arm through his long sleeve. He was all alone now that Steve was locked up, Marcia was dead, and Cherry was dating someone else. Still, it was progress to see him out.

We all talk about anything and everything until the sky begins to grow dark. The first BOOM resonates through the park, startling all of us. We flinch and I can't help but compare it to Vietnam. It sounded exactly like shell fire! It explodes in the sky in a dazzling display of light. BOOM. Another one cracks through the still night air. Why did it have to sound so much like shell fire? Why did I have to compare it to that? It killed the beauty of the fireworks. My fiance notices my rigid posture and gives me a squeeze. I smile reassuringly, but my heart isn't in it. I'm back in Vietnam. Fighting, dodging bullets, hiding from shell fire. Buddies falling dead, so many that their faces didn't even register. Constant rain soaking us to the bone and hammering us from up above. The villages we raided, the POW's we rescued like my brother and best friend, the mud we slept in on the jungle floor, the safety of the base camps... I remember everything with painful clarity.

Darry is watching in awe with Ash pointing out all of the pretty colors. He's never shown much interest in them before, but the toddler opened up his eyes and painted everything in a new light. Lacey is holding Darry's hand and together they point out things that Ash may have missed. It's still beautiful to them, maybe even more beautiful than before.

Two-Bit is in front of me, so all I see is his back. Kathy has her arm wrapped around him and is trying to whisper words of comfort. Every time another one explodes, I can see him flinch. He's murmuring quietly to his fiance, trying to reassure her that he was fine. Knowing Two-Bit, he was probably cracking jokes about how ridiculous his reflex was.

T-Bone is panicking also. He's pacing in front of our blanket with his leash attached to Two-Bit's ankle. He whimpers in between blasts and barks once when another one goes off. Apparently even dogs can remember war.

Then I look back at Pony. He's sitting curled up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees. One foot is tapping frantically on the ground like he's trying to run away from the memories that are bombarding him. His eyes are tightly held shut, lips a hard line, face pale and drawn in pain. BOOM. Another one goes off and he flinches violently, breath coming in smothered gasps. Where was Steve when you needed him? He could calm Ponyboy down. They went through almost everything together and it helped them to keep it that way. He wasn't here though, and I don't know how to help.

I scoot back and hover uselessly beside him. I know what I want to do. I want to drag him out of here and far away from the thing that triggered his flashback. I'd do whatever I had to in order to keep my baby brother safe. I'm not sure if that would help him or hurt him. I don't want him running off, fearing I'm the enemy. He flinches again and I don't know where he is. Is he here, or is he back in 'Nam?

Taking a chance, I call softly, "Pony?" He doesn't move so I put a gentle hand on his shoulder. His eyes shoot open and he jumps up quickly, fear written all over his face. His eyes tell me exactly what I'd been dreading. All progress we'd made with him was completely obliterated. Recognition flashes in his cold, frightened eyes. A new fear takes place. He turns and runs. I dash after him. I cannot let him get away! Darry and Two-Bit are right behind me, our feet pounding on the ground. Ponyboy may be out of shape right now, but we're no match for him. He quickly gains ground, running like the devil was on his tail. We fall behind and lose him.

"Dammit!" I shout angrily.

"Now what?" Two-Bit pants out in between gasps. T-Bone silently paces next to him.

Darry sighs heavily, "We hope he's okay and wait for him to come home."

**Oh no! What is Pony going to do now? Just a short little chapter for Soda. I'm not very good at writing in his perspective. Thoughts? All reviews are welcome as always! **


	11. Chapter 11

So This Is War

Chapter Eleven

**Sorry it's taken me so long! Usually I'm faster that this! Anyway here we go, back to Pony's view!**

I ran from the park and my brothers. A barrage of fireworks fired off behind me, making me flinch so hard that I stumbled and almost face planted on the cement. I quickly recovered and kept running. I had to get away! I wasn't just running from the memories. I was running from my brothers because now they knew just how messed up I was. My cover was blown. They may not know about the drugs, but they knew I wasn't alright. It was only a matter of time.

My lungs burned in my chest, not used to this. I slow down and look around. I'm in front of the library I used to spend most of my time in. I take a deep breath and try to relieve some of the pressure in my chest. I hold my side where there's a sharp cramp. Running isn't something I've done in months, not counting the time I ran from Tim's. I calm down some, the adrenaline still pounding in my veins.

Sitting on a bench a few feet away is a familiar face. Cherry is sitting with her elbows braced on her knees and her head in her hands. I'd know that head of red hair anywhere. Without really knowing why, I go over and sit next to her on the bench. She looks up in surprise. It takes her a moment to really see me, but when she does she throws her arms around me and starts sobbing. I wrap my arms around her, relishing the contact.

After a minute or two, she sits back and wipes her eyes. "Oh Ponyboy... I'm sorry. The first time you see me in months and I'm a mess."

I brush back a stray lock of hair and tuck it behind her ear. "A beautiful mess. Now tell me what's wrong, Cherry," I plead, worried. She looks away toward the street and bites a nail nervously. In the glow of the streetlight, I notice something that makes my blood freeze. There's a wide bruise across her right cheek, the perfect size of a hand. "Cherry," my voice hard now, "who hit you?"

She turns to me and touches the bruise with one hand. "Ponyboy, he didn't mean it. He never does. It's just, sometimes he loses his temper. I hate to ask this of you, but could you maybe go with me to grab some stuff? After he hit me, I ran out of the house so I didn't have time to take anything with me... I don't want to go alone."

"Your boyfriend?" I ask, needing the confirmation. I didn't know that she'd moved in with the guy, but I'd heard she was dating someone new. No one was going to hurt my Cherry though. Even after everything I still loved her as much as the day I left for 'Nam. If someone had her so scared that she wouldn't even go home alone, I'd take care of it.

Cherry nods, sniffling a little, "Yeah, Max." Max had better be big, fast, and strong if he were to stand a chance against me. I was out of shape, but I remembered all of my combat training and wouldn't have any trouble executing it on the bastard who hurt Cherry. I didn't tolerate hitting women, but especially not my woman.

I don't let Cherry catch on to my rage. She would never approve of what I was about to do. I stand up and offer her a hand up. "Ready to go see Max, Cherry?" She takes my hand with a grateful smile. She dries her eyes and we walk to the Soc side of town. I forgot how much I loved her. We talk about everything we've missed in each others lives. Naturally, I edit the drug side of my life. She asked if I'd kicked it and I told her that yes, I was clean. She was sorry to her about Evie, glad for my other brothers, and happy to hear that I was getting better. I was sorry to hear all about her problems with Max.

From what she told me, she started dating him shortly after our big blow out. She was on the rebound and he seemed like a nice guy. They dated for a month and everything was perfect. She knew he had a little bit of a temper, but it wasn't enough to worry about. That should have been the warning sign. He asked her to move in with him so she did, thinking he loved her. She was still convinced he did. The first time he hit her, she said it was an accident. They'd been arguing and he turned around too fast, not knowing she was standing right there. The second time, she stayed at a friend's house. He apologized, saying that it was a one time thing and he was so very sorry. The next time, she thought it was her fault for making him mad. After that, it became common enough that she was afraid. She was afraid of what he would do if she left him, so she needed someone to help her out and protect her. Here we are.

I roll my eyes. Disbelieving, I ask, "You actually believe that asshole? He hits you and you think he loves you?"

She shakes her head. "No! He does love me, he just has a temper and when he gets mad he does stupid things. It isn't his fault, but I can't stay with him anymore."

I grumble, "You shouldn't have stayed with him the first time."

Cherry grabs my arm, forcing me to a halt. "I wouldn't have been with him in the first place if it weren't for you almost doing the same thing." A knife twists in my heart. She was right. I did almost hit her and that's when she left me. So, in a way, it was my fault that she was with this jerk in the first place. But she should have known better than to trust a guy who actually hit her when he was sober.

I defend, "I wasn't right in the head. What's his excuse?"

She sighs and drops my arm. We continue our walk. "I guess you're right. I just wanted so much to believe that he loved me, that I actually did."

We walk silently and I prepare myself for this upcoming fight. He hurt her one too many times. We come up to the house, a quaint little one story with a rose garden. It looked so innocent on the outside. No one would ever imagine that such horrors were concealed just inside those walls. Just like this Max guy. He seemed fine on the outside, but once she moved in she saw his dark side.

Cherry slowly opens the front door and creeps in. I follow closely behind her. We don't see any sign of him even though the lights are all on. She goes in a bedroom and starts packing a bag. I leave her to wander the house, looking for Max. It's a well kept house, thanks to Cherry probably. Everything is very clean and put together.

A man's voice thunders through the house, "What the hell are you doing, Cherry? You leaving me?" I run back to the open room. He's holding her arm tight enough to leave bruises, his face close to hers. She shoots me a terrified glance and he turns around, not letting go. "Who the hell is this?" he demands, shaking her hard.

Something in me from long ago snaps. Coldly, I order, "Let her go, right now."

He smirks. "Or you'll what?"

"Let her go, or you'll see exactly what I'll do," I answer darkly. My voice isn't even recognizable. It's the voice of a violent stranger, deadly calm. I mean every word. If I were to say 'or I'll kill you', I'd mean it. In the moment, I was capable of doing anything and I wanted nothing more than to tear him apart.

Max pushes her roughly away towards the bed. He steps close to me until we are standing toe to toe. "You're not involved, guy. So why don't you just mind your own damn business and leave?"

"Fuck you."

He shoves me back, making me stumble a few feet with a soft grunt. I regain my balance and smile icily. I rear back my fist and punch him in the face. He staggers to the side and comes after me. He tackles me until my back meets the wall. I bounce off, punching him low in the gut, moving forward as he moves back. Now that I'm out of the corner, I dance back, letting him collect his composure. His eyes are burning with rage, my own blood boiling just as hot.

Cherry is yelling at us at the top of her lungs, "Stop it! Just stop it, both of you!" Her screams fall on deaf ears, but she doesn't stop.

Max charges after me, knocking me down to the floor. I kick him off of me, both of us rolling on the floor and landing punches. Blood is dripping from my nose and my mouth. I can feel the bruises along my body. I manage to pin him under me and pound on him. My hard knuckles leave a bloody gash above his left eye. I hear his nose crunch and blood gushes out. His lip is split in two places, trickling blood. He'll have a black eye and more bruises than to count.

I hear sirens pull up. Out the corner of my eye, I see Cherry take off in the direction of the front door. That second of distraction cost me and Max got out from under me. He punches me in the eye, pain blurring everything for a moment. My vision comes back and I launch myself at him. We're still fighting when the police officers swarm into the room. They rip us off of each other and haul us out.

I'm tossed against the hood of a police cruiser by two officers, handcuffed. They search me for weapons and find something in my back pocket. I lay my head down on the metal when they unfold my bag of white powder. One of them asks what it is and the other places a dab on their tongue. He spits it out, "Cocaine. Well now, you're in all sorts of trouble now aren't you, boy?" I groan, at least there was only one dose left. They read me my rights and toss me in the back of the cruiser. I see two other officers talking to Max by the other cruiser, treating him like a victim. Cherry is crying on the porch. Pleased, I note that she has her bag on her shoulder. At least she's getting out of there.

The cruiser blares its siren and drives into the night. I lay my head back on the head rest, tapping my foot agitatedly. I was getting jumpy, having burned most of the junk out of my system. The clock on the dash read 0300. We get to the police station and they process me. I was being charged with assault and drug possession. They march me over to a payphone on the wall across from the cells. This is my one phone call, my one chance to get out on bail before my trial in two days. I shake my head and wipe the sweat from my brow. I was starting to withdrawal.

I dial home, hoping that Darry isn't asleep yet. "Hello?" He sounds stressed and awake. I hear voices in the background that tell me he's not alone. I wonder if it's the gang or Lacey.

My nose starts running and I sniff, rubbing my nose quickly. I try to focus and say, "Hey, Darry."

"Ponyboy? We've been worried sick! Are you okay? What's wrong?" My big brother sounded panicky, like he was expecting me to be dead in a gutter somewhere. He always worried, but this time he may have had a reason.

I brush my hair back. "Uh, nothing. Look, um, could you come pick me up? I'm kinda at the, um, downtown? At the, y'know, the police station?" I couldn't think straight which was making talking difficult. He probably was gonna think I'm drunk.

"What?" he shouts into the line. "What the hell are you doing there, Pony? And are you drunk?"

"No, I ain't drunk, Darry. I just- Look could you come pick me up please?"

He sighs heavily. "Yeah. I'm assuming you need bail money too?"

I nod, forgetting he couldn't actually see me. "Uh, yeah. So you gonna come?"

"Yes, Ponyboy. I'm on my way now," he says, getting annoyed.

"Thanks, Dar. Bye." I hang up the phone and the officer escorts me into one of the cells. He locks me in and leaves me alone. I rub my nose again and try sitting down to wait. Too much adrenaline is pumping in me though, so soon I'm pacing. I pace the tiny cell until thirty minutes later, I'm back out again and led to the front of the station where Darry is waiting for me.

He shakes his head at me, disappointed and scared. I quickly think of what to tell him and decide on the truth, minus the small drug charge. What he doesn't know can't hurt him. We go out to the truck where I see Soda waiting, wearing a relieved expression. He hugs me tightly when I slide in next to him. Darry climbs into the driver's seat and starts it up. They ask me what happened.

"After I ran, I bumped into Cherry by the library. She told me that she wanted help moving out because her boyfriend scared her. He's been beating her. So I went with her. I left her alone in the room to look for him, but he found her packing first. I go in when I hear him start threatening her and eventually we get into it when he shoves her. The neighbors must have called in a domestic disturbance 'cause next thing I know, the cops are pulling us apart. And now here we are. Hey, Dar, can we stop by my place so I can get some clean clothes?"

Soda flips on the overhead light to look me over. I wince from the bright light. My shirt has blood on it from my nose and my knuckles are gashed, but I don't think I look too bad. I can feel the bruises on my face and body, but nothing feels swollen. "Shit, Pony! You really took a beating!"

I shrug indifferently. "You should have seen the other guy."

Soda cracks a grin and even Darry gives a tight smile. We don't say much after that, but Darry takes me to my apartment. We all go up and I let us in with the key. I push hard on the door with my shoulder to get it to swing open. I scan the room for anything I need to hide and move on to my bedroom. Everything is hidden where it should be. I get my bag from under the bed and pack essentials; couple shirts, pair of jeans, heroin, coke...

We leave and go back to the house. It's early in the morning now, but my brothers are off of work. We all head to our separate bedrooms after they are satisfied my nose is not broken and my knuckles don't need stitches. I hide my stash under the mattress and shoot up. The day melts away, giving me the peace I've longed for ever since my last fix.

Two days come and go, uneventful. My brothers and I all spent time together and I lived with Darry for those days just like I used to. Lacey and Ash came over so I officially got to meet them. They were perfect for my oldest brother. I was really glad they had each other. Soda had his girl over too, and announced Darry as the best man. It didn't bother me because Soda had talked to me beforehand to check in with me. Darry deserved it.

"Ponyboy Curtis, this court has reached a decision," boomed the loud judge. "If you were in any other courtroom, you might be sentenced to six months in the state penitentiary on the accounts of assault and possession of narcotics. However, since this is your first felony, I am willing to let you off with two months in the county jail. Don't let me see you in this courtroom again. This court is adjourned."

The officer led me out of the courthouse and to the police cruiser. We drove to the jailhouse where I was handed off. They gave me an orange jumpsuit and led me to my new cell. My cellmate was a hippie. He had long, dirty hair and yellowed teeth. His eyes were red and glassy. He refused to keep his shoes on. His welcoming gift though, turned me on his side. As soon as the guard was away, he handed me a needle. This was just what I needed after the long day in court. I shoot up and think, who knew it was easier to get good junk in here than out in the real world? This was gonna be an easy two months.

**Please review! **


	12. Chapter 12

So This Is War

Chapter Twelve

**Again, sorry it's taking me so long to update! Just a heads up, I don't know much about jail so this chapter may have some flaws. Please excuse any that come up and enjoy!**

"Hey, what's your name anyway?" I ask my cellmate on the bunk below me. Everyone knows the top bunk is best, but he claimed the bottom made him feel closer to the earth or something. I've been here two days and we've never had a real conversation. He seems like a nice enough guy, but most of the time we were either getting high or brooding quietly.

He chuckles. "Gold-Sky, man. What about you?" If that wasn't ironic, I don't know what is. Too bad Johnny can't see me now, sitting in a cell with a hippie whose name was our favorite sight.

"Ponyboy."

He laughs like that's the greatest name he's ever heard. I peer down at him. He collects himself and sighs, "I like the way you roll, man."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks. My parents gave me it."

His mouth flops open and his eyes widen. "No kidding? Man, I wish my parents weren't so square! I had to name myself."

I flip back over and stare up at the gray ceiling. Parents are one conversation I will not get into with a stranger. No matter how high I got, I never forgot to keep my mouth shut on that topic. It wasn't anyone else's business. Lucky for me, I didn't have to talk right then. The laundry crew came around and tossed in two stacks of bedding. Was it sad that they gave you the same basic bedding in jail as they did in boot camp?

Gold-Sky hops off his bunk to investigate. He tosses me the one on the left. I let it plop on the thin mattress by my feet and continue watching my odd cellmate. He was feeling around his flimsy pillow as if searching it for imperfections. He shook it and continued prodding the stuffing through the worn fabric. I raised a questioning eyebrow as he first held it to his hear, listening, then sniffed it. He dropped it back on the stack and grabbed mine before I could snatch it away. He did the same thing with my pillow. Then, instead of tossing it to the side, he ripped the seam and started sifting through the stuffing.

"Hey!" I cried , jumping down from my bunk to try making a grab for my ruined pillow. They were terrible to begin with, but better than nothing.

He turned his back to me and kept digging. White cotton stuffing littered the concrete floor. He hollered, "Aha!" Then he dropped the empty fabric with one last handful of stuffing. Sticking out of the cotton ball were two capped needles bound together with a rubber band. An ingenious way to sneak them in!

Impressed, I fold my arms across my chest and lean back. I take out a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and light up. A guard's sharp step resonates down the hall. Gold-Sky quickly scrambles to hide his stash in the stack of laundry. The guard gives us a glance as he passes and keeps walking. A few steps later he backtracks and peers in at us.

He clears his throat and clanks the bars with his club to grab our attention. We continue staring at him nervously. Well, Gold-Sky is jittery, but I'm perfectly calm. Whatever it was that snapped that night never came back. I was always cold and indifferent now, unless I was starting to withdrawal. The guard chides, "Now what is it that's going on here? Y'all know that what you get is all you get."

I gasp, "As if we're in jail or something? Goldie, did you know that? 'Cause I didn't know that."

Gold laughs at me, completely appalled by my guts. Mouthing off to the guards wasn't a smart thing to do, but I wasn't worried. The guard turns red with anger and hisses, "Watch it, Curtis. I got half a mind not to take you out to them visitors waiting for you."

I shrug, but cool off the wisecracks. Goldie picks at his nails and shifts his eyes between us. The guard ignores him and commands me to come forward and put my hands through the bars. He handcuffs me tightly. The cell door slides open, allowing me to be dragged out, then it slams back into place. I wave awkwardly at my cell mate and follow the guard's instructions. We go in through a big metal door to a big room with chairs and tables scattered. He sits me down at one and my brothers approach from a door on the other side of the room. They wave my guard away, who sits by our door, and grab me in a big hug. It's just Darry and Soda so I assume visitors are only family or Two-Bit's working.

They let go and sit down across from me at the table. Soda lays his hands flat on the metal top and Darry folds his across his chest. They both look tense, or disappointed, maybe both. I lean back in my chair and fold my hands behind my head, unconcerned. Now Darry looks mad. He says, "Ponyboy, what on earth is the matter with you? Here you are in _jail_ and you're acting like you don't even care!" I shrug. He yells and Soda stares hard at me, "Ponyboy Curtis! Do you even care that we, your brothers, were worrying our heads off thinking about you in here? Imagining god knows what happening to you?"

I grin and try to calm him down. Smoothly I say, "It ain't so bad, Dar. Food's better than the Army! And you'll never guess what my cellmate's name is. It's Gold-Sky."

Sodapop chuckles lightly while Darry sputters. "What? Jail's not that _bad?_"

"Yeah. I mean, it ain't like I'm eating bugs to stay alive and the other inmates ain't near as bad as the gooks were. Probably half the guys in here are vets just like us."

The mood blackens instantly. Soda looks away toward the wall, face grim with the memories. Darry clenches his teeth, but the fight goes out in his eyes. They didn't have it as bad as me back there. They didn't have to do what I did or see what I saw. What kills them is they know it too. I was glad because it was a living hell. That's what they couldn't stand; they didn't want me to go through it either, but I did. No one could do anything or change anything no matter how much they wanted to.

Voice hard, Darry warns, "Don't get too comfy, Pony, because we are NOT doing this again."

I don't say anything. So far it was better than being out alone. I had good company and good junk to pump into my veins. The way things were headed, jail might start feeling like home only it'd be all too easy to get back. My brothers don't need to worry about that. I keep my mouth shut and just stare down at the table.

Sodapop tries to cheer us up, but his own mood is so down that he eventually gives up. After ten minutes they say their goodbyes and leave. My guard guides me back to my cell, locking us in tight. Gold-Sky is already high, looking asleep unless you knew to look closer. I reached under his pillow and took the last needle for myself. I knew I had to save it for when I needed to stay cool, but he couldn't be trusted to keep it for me. He'd probably use it as soon as he came down from this trip. He claimed it helped him to 'see beyond', but that was such bullshit. Beyond what? He was such an addict, used without need. I needed it, to escape, but he didn't. He had his peace and love while I had an oblivion.

I check to see the cap is on and pocket it. I jump up onto my bunk and use one arm as a pillow, I stuff my other hand in my pocket to secure my smack. I close my eyes, trying to sleep, but thoughts race into my head before I can. I think of what I always think of at times like these: The war. A panic courses through me so intense that I almost shoot up right then. I force myself to calm down and release my grip on the syringe.

The next morning the guards wake us up at the same time. That's nothing unusual. Everything here is routine and orderly, just like basic. We all shuffle in line to the cafeteria at the end of the hall. Gold-Sky whispers to me that this is his last day. That means I should keep an eye on him because some of the inmates got jealous and liked to take cracks at the guys before they got out, especially the hippies. He'd done six months for public indecency while he was high out of his mind. It wasn't his first offense so the judge sat on him hard.

I go through the line first with my tray of stale moldy bread and whatever else was slapped on. Gold is right behind me, icy calm. We eat our breakfast in silence with most of the other inmates. The sea of orange is eerily familiar to me, like the sea of green camouflage. Everyone moves as one just like we were trained as soldiers. Gold was the only hippie in the room, but even though he wasn't the only one with long dirty hair, he was easy to pinpoint. We soldiers had that haunted dark look in our face. I fidget with my pocket.

My back was turned when a presence came and ripped Gold away from the table. I quickly spun back around, but was too late. They already had him swarmed and were all beating him at once. All I could see at the center was a blur of fists and boots. I knew he wouldn't fight back which was what made me sick. I get up from the table and discard my tray, leaving him to his fate. He wasn't my responsibility and he wouldn't thank me if I got involved with my own fists anyway. Damn pacifist.

All I wanted to do was go in there and save him, but only a fool would take on a pack of wolves when the prey you were saving would only spit on you in return. So I left him alone and watched. The guards surrounded them quickly and broke up the free for all. What's black and blue and red all over? Gold-Sky right now. He's unconscious, every inch of skin already starting to bruise, blood dripping down his swelling face... The guards have to carry him out to the infirmary.

A light sweat breaks out on my skin. It won't be long before my hands start to shake and my thoughts start to slur. I have to stay cool a little while longer though. This could be my last hit for a long time which would make this vacation turn into a nightmare fast. Gold didn't have time to set me up with a new dealer so now I really was on my own. I've always had a dealer or some luck. What am I gonna do?

Later, during free time, I quickly find out what it costs. I ask one of the other cats that work the trade, but he gave a price that was too high even for me. He, and most other cats in the joint, wanted something that I would never give. I would never be that desperate. I could never give in to that like Marcia had. So, I learned how to steal. Two-Bit would have been proud, not of what I was stealing, but my natural ability to take things without being noticed. I knew all the hiding spots which made it easier, but one wrong move could be the last I'd ever make.

For the rest of my stretch, that's how I operated. I held out as long as I could, which wasn't more than a few days, then I carefully stole whatever was available to me. It was all good product, but no one seemed to favor smack like I did. Anything worked though. All I needed was a little something to keep my head straight, and away from thinking. It was a hard stint, but I made it out without giving in to the ghouls once.

I timed it perfectly. I was icy cool the day my brothers came by to pick me up on release day. I had them drive me to the hospital so I could visit Gold-Sky. When I'd called, they told me he was almost ready to be released too. Funny how we both had a two month stretch we never intended on. At least his prison had drugs for him to get a hold of. My brothers wait in the lobby while I go up to the room.

Gold looks a lot better than last I'd seen him. He was clean, bruise free, and only mildly beat up. He even looked- straight. Weren't hospitals supposed to keep you doped while you were in them? He grins with white teeth when he sees me in the doorway. I come in and shut the door behind me.

"Hey man," I greet, taking a seat in the plastic chair at his bedside.

"Hey, Ponyboy. You get out already?"

I chuckle, "I was only in for two months. How yah been? You looked pretty banged up last I saw you."

He frowns and scratches the back of his head. I notice a big white cast on the other arm and one of his legs. He crinkles his nose, "Yeah, I guess I was. To tell you the truth, I don't remember much of what happened. I mean they told me when I woke up, but I can't picture it or nothing. I was in a coma for a week, had two surgeries, shattered kneecap, fractured arm, deep tissue bruising, and was all sorts of a mess."

I wince. "Man, that's rough. I got yah a present though," I pull out the needle that I'd saved all this time. "It's the same one I took off you that night. Sounds like you could use it."

There is an instant change in Gold-Sky's appearance. He pales, his eyes shift around nervously, he wet his lips, his posture went rigid in the white hospital bed. He slowly reaches out to take my gift, but then he snatches his hand back like it'd burned him. I set my hand down in my lap. He grimaces, "Sorry man, but I just got clean and I want to stay that way, yah dig? I mean, it's like things are finally starting to come together for me."

I roll my eyes at him bitterly. First, he wants an escape from his dull reality and now he loves his boring life? Didn't he care that I tortured myself to get this needle back to him? I stand up. "Glad to hear it, Goldie. Maybe I'll see yah 'round." He nods at me sadly, like I'm some kind of lost puppy or something. I leave.

I wasn't mad that he was getting his life together. I wasn't mad that he was clean. I wasn't even mad at him. I was mad that he had a life he could go back to when I couldn't. The life I had was full of pain and misery, this was the only thing that took it all away. There was no going back for me. Deep down, I was screaming to stop, but I couldn't now. Whenever I got close to trying, the hysteria snapped me out of it. I wasn't an addict, but withdrawal would beg to differ.


	13. Chapter 13

So This Is War

Chapter Thirteen

**Here we are at lucky number thirteen again! Thirteen is a good number for things to start going downhill, don't you think? Brace for impact! Warning: Language & Drugs **

The vicious cycle continued as soon as I got back. I started working for Charlie Adams, Steve's dealer. If I thought that no one wanted to hire a disturbed war veteran, well, even fewer want to hire one with a criminal record. The military savings were gone and I needed the money. It was even harder to steal on the streets so I needed something to generate revenue for the junk. Adams, even though he was a lowlife scumbag, was the answer.

Charlie Adams was a cheap hood that thought he was real sharp. He had greasy brown hair that was molded to his head. His deep brown eyes were so dark they almost looked black, but that could be his pupils that are dilated ninety percent of the time. If he was ever straight it was because he ran out of stock which happened rarely. He was known on the street for his product reliability. Adams had two personal 'assistants' who treated him like a mafia lord. For Tulsa, he was a mafia drug lord. He'd been busted twice, but the cops couldn't ever get enough dirt to put him away for more than a couple years at a time. Then he'd get right back on the streets and pick up where he left off. No one dared cross him because that got people dead.

I was finally selling, something that I never wanted to do. I refused to sell to kids, but other clients were fair game. Adams had me resume Tim's old circuit. With Tim in prison, Curly was back in the house, but I knew he wouldn't let me within ten yards of his place. The parties took place in my apartment, much to the annoyance of neighbors. They were just as loud though so I couldn't feel too bad. We weren't loud when we were stoned anyway. Once or twice a week I would host a party, three or four days a week I would be flying, and the rest of the time was spent on the streets selling. My brothers tried to swing by, but, like last time, I pretended I wasn't home. It was better they didn't know what really was going on.

Someone knocks on the door. Annoyed with all of the interruptions, I exhale roughly and toss down the bag in my hand. I cock my head towards the door and listen. My clients had a secret password, poker. Another knock on the door, no word. Now I know it isn't someone I want seeing this stuff. I quickly scramble to hide the bags under the couch cushions. Please don't be the police!

"Hey, Pony," Soda calls. "You in there?" He knocks again and I straighten my clothes, scanning the room. Everything is clear. I take a deep calming breath and open the door. He grins at me, the smile not quite hiding the frustration in his eyes. "There you are," he sighs.

"I do live here, Soda," I tease dryly.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, following me inside the apartment. "Do you? 'Cause we ain't seen you since the day you were released."

"I've been busy."

"Busy," he repeats. "Right. You know you can talk to me? Or to any of us? I mean, are you trying to avoid us? Did we do something wrong?"

I shake my head firmly. No it wasn't them, it was me- I did something wrong. He wouldn't understand that so I say, "No. I've just been busy, okay? Trying to find a job and whatnot."

"We could help you with that, you know. You don't have to hide from us. It ain't nothing to be ashamed of." He's trying so hard to get the old Pony back, like he doesn't know that Ponyboy is dead. I almost want to tell him everything, to make him understand that. If he knew, he would give up. But I don't because I've hurt enough people in my lifetime.

Annoyed at myself, I snap at him, "Yeah, well, I got it under control. What'd you want anyway?"

His eyes fill with more hurt and his mouth flops open like he's about to argue. He stops himself. Resigned, he starts again, "The wedding is in three days, in case you forgot. You know, _my _wedding that you seem to have blocked from your memory. I asked you to get the tux last week and you still haven't gone."

"I'll show up, alright? I ain't forgot nothing."

"So, let's go," he says, trying to usher me out the door."

I look back at him confused. "Where?"

He sighs harshly and rolls his eyes. "To get your suit. Darry and I got our on Monday. Now it's just yours and Two-Bit's turn."

I groan, but allow myself to be led down to the parking garage to Soda's car. He dumps me in the passenger seat, slams my door, and goes around to the drivers side. We drive out of the greaser slums to the greaser side of downtown, and the cheap tuxedo shop. The headless mannequins stare me down through the display window as we walk into the store. Sweat starts to break out on my clammy hands, reminding me that my fix was interrupted. That thought makes me jumpier. I need to go home, just for a quick hit.

Darry and Two-Bit are already waiting for us at the back by the dressing room. Two-Bit is standing in front of a couple of mirrors in a suit that's a few sizes too big. It looks like it's about to slip right off of him! Despite my discomfort, I start laughing and he looks up in the mirror with a startled grin.

"Ain't you too old to be playing dress-up, Two-Bit?" I ask.

He chuckles and I see Darry smiling behind him. "Hardy har har, you got your own penguin suit back there!" He gives me a light shove in the direction of a dressing room.

I go in and quickly scramble into the suit. It's a little tight, but a decent enough fit. Hopefully that means I'll be done soon. I go out to face the music and my brothers. They all starting laughing a little at me. I look down and grin too.

Two-Bit laughs and tries to point from inside his long jacket sleeve, "I didn't know you were aiming to be a Soc, Pony!"

Darry tries to collect himself and hides his smile behind his hand. "It looks, uh, very nice, little brother."

Soda bounds over to a rack with several other suits hanging. He checks the tags and comes back with another pair of pants. He offers them to me with a goofy grin, his lively eyes back and dancing. "Sorry, Pony, I forgot you grew out of your old size. These oughtta fit better."

I shake my head and take the pants. They fit much better. Now the suit looks fine. Two-Bit is also in his next one which looks like a match. Maybe now we can be done. After all, I have 'work' to do. "These work? It's not like I'm the one getting married anyway," I complain rudely.

My brothers all shrink slightly, like a glimmer of hope had just been taken away from them. The smiles shrink and the faces fall, shoulders slumping, and laughter thin. I try to tell myself that it wasn't because of me, but I know it was. A new terrible guilt starts in on me and I almost apologize. Darry waves me on impatiently and I know they've given up. They've given up on me.

I change back into my normal clothes and Darry pays for the suit. We loiter outside the shop before we go off in separate directions. Darry has work, Soda is busy with wedding plans, and I go with Two-Bit to his car. I know he'll give me a ride home because he never has anything to do this time of day. I climb in and he doesn't say anything. He pulls up in front of the crumbling building. I open my door and start to get out.

Two-Bit reaches out and grabs my arm. His eyes are dark and cloudy, something that is rare and frightening for my good buddy. His voice is low and rough, "You better show some more respect at Soda's wedding, kid. You can at least act like you're happy for his sake. He's only gonna get married once, so the least you can do is be a good brother because you sure as hell ain't been lately."

My eyes narrow and I get defensive. He notices and drops my arm. "Don't worry, I'll be there," I spit out through my teeth.

"Yeah you will, 'cause I'm picking you up. Saturday morning and don't forgot!"

I barely have time to close the car door and step back before he zooms off. My hand starts shaking and I remember what time it is. Time for a fix. I jog up the stairs, puffing and huffing by the time I reach my floor. That only makes me shake more, sweat pouring off of me, body humming with nervous energy. I throw my shoulder into the door and slam it shut behind me. I fish the bags out from under the couch cushions and toss them onto the coffee table. I resume dishing out doses that I'm going to sell later tonight until finally they're all tied up and it's my turn. I still have three hours so I go ahead and get out a needle and shoot up.

My head clears up some so I get up, stretching. I go over to the radio and turn it on low. Right on time, a soft knock hits the door followed by the magic words, "Let me in, I wanna play some poker." There it is, the word poker. I don't care how they use it as long as they say it. They could put it in a sentence or just whisper it through the door. There were a lot of colorful ways they got in. I let in the first wave of people and direct them to the table. They pay for what they want and go off into different corners of the room. I was the commander here. I ruled everything, but I wasn't one of them.

In two hours the circuit is nearly complete. My regular timers are all here with their friends, and their friends' new friends. People were strewn out in the corner, dancing in the middle of the floor, or getting high. I started thinking about my brother again. About the war. About everything. I was still high, I shouldn't be having these thoughts yet. It wasn't nearly time for another hit, but I wanted to escape these thoughts. The circuit was busy. They wouldn't be needing me for awhile, no one would. All I could think while I was shooting up this time was; my brothers have finally given up on me. It was all I wanted them to do, but now that they had... I felt lonely and I wished now more than ever that things could be like they were. I knew this wasn't going to bring those times back. It used to feel like that, but now all it did was take away what I was feeling for a little bit. There was no way to fix me. So I gave up on myself as well.

The next morning I woke up with a shock. The leftover stock was gone and today was payday! I was supposed to give Charlie the money for all the dope, but now it was gone! I only had half profit for the whole inventory! I shouldn't have doped up at the party. That was stupid. I let my guard down completely and the circuit stole from me. They may as well have cut my throat!

I overturn the table with a loud BAM. Some of the leftover people wake up, startled. I holler at them, "Get out! You really need to get out now! Just get the fuck out!" They quickly scramble out and leave me with my anger. I throw the couch cushions across the room in the vain hope I misplaced it. Shit! I flip over the couch and it hits the wall hard. I pull on my hair and pace. The cracked clock on the wall tells me I only have an hour to come up with the money or the dope. There is no way.

I storm back to my room and desperately dig through my dresser. My personal stash is still safely taped to the back of the drawer. I drag my arm across the top of the dresser, scattering the contents to the floor. I grab the small bag at the bag of my sock drawer and dump some of the white powder on the flat surface and snort it up painfully. My nose was raw from all these ups and I was starting to get nosebleeds frequently. My eyes were constantly bloodshot. I couldn't sleep without a downer, and I couldn't wake up without an up. Maybe I wasn't doing this just to forget. Maybe-just maybe-I was an addict...

I go back out to the living room and look around. Energy flows through me, making me feel alive again. For lack of something better to do, I destroy more of my stuff. I throw the card table across the room where it hits the wall, denting the plaster, and folds up on its own, unable to support its own weight. I pick the lamp up off the floor and rip the cord out of the wall. I throw it at the wall by the broken table and the bulb shatters, raining down glass. I like the way that looked so I go into the kitchen and gather up all the glassware in my arms. I come back and start throwing one thing after another at the walls. Soon glass litters the carpet in all colors like a kaleidoscope. I look up at the clock. Only five minutes now. "Sonofabitch!" I wade through the glass, by miracle wearing my boots, and take the clock off the wall. I slam it against the wall several times, glass and plastic and metal pieces all flying in different direction. Satisfied, I drop it to join the graveyard and calmly walk out the door. I felt perfectly fine now, other than the small red trickle of blood leaking out of my nose.

I keep one hand under my nose and drive with the other. I'm sure I looked like I'd been in a fight, but I didn't care. I had dark eyes, pale skin, was thin and greasy, bloody nose, and glass embedded in my clothes. A stranger would see a messed up hood, but it was all part of the job for me. Charlie Adams was five times worse looking than me every time I saw him. Unfortunately, this was one of his more lucid times.

My car pulled into the abandoned parking lot of an old factory. I parked close to the rotting building. Everything about him was a walking stereotype. I gave the password at the door and his cronies let me in. The first level of the factory looked like it was still in working order. There were rows of tables set up with people working on bagging the drugs just like I did at home. They were industrial about it, every man working on one type and one dose. That man dished out a dozen or more then put it in with their filing system. There were probably twenty guys including guards just down here. Adams liked to keep a small army around him at all times. He only trusted two though.

Speaking of, the two large bruits came down the rusty staircase. They were every bit as big as Darry, if not bigger, and definitely meaner. With one word from Adams they would tear a guy apart just like attack dogs. The slightly bigger one nods to me and says, "Curtis, Charlie's been expecting you."

I squirm under their heavy gaze. "Uh, yeah. Can I see him?"

"Sure. Just show us the money first."

Shit! Why did they have to ask that? I was hoping to explain that to Adams first. I laugh nervously, "About that... There was a little incident last night..."

They lunge after me and tightly drag me up to Charlie's office. They each have an arm in their bruising grip. His office is the old command box that overlooked the factory floor. The glass walls are heavily stained, but you can just see through the grimed film at the work being down below. They close the door behind us, sealing us in the soundproof room. This is not a good situation.

Adam slowly spins around in his chair to look at me. His hair is greased back just as always and he has a white T-shit, blue jeans, and a nice black leather jacket. He has blue tinted sunglasses on even though the light in here is dim enough to have me squinting.

"So... Curtis. I hear you been stealing from me," he drawls quietly. He nods at one of the men and he punches me in the gut. I choke as the air rushes from my lungs. That hurt!

I breathe heavy, scared for my life. "Please, Charlie... Just let me explain. It wasn't like that!"

He sits back and props his feet up on the dirt covered desk. He motions for me to continue, so I try to sum it up without sounding as careless as I was. "So I was hosting this circuit last night see? And I might have gotten a little stoned myself..."

He's up in a flash and flips the table violently aside just like I had earlier. Rage flashes in his eyes behind those sunglasses. A bitter, power fueled, animalistic expression. "You stupid motherfucker! So you let those dumb hippie cocksuckers steal my money?"

A few more powerful blows hit me in the face and torso. The strong hands keep me pinned up so I can't even curl in on myself for protection. I cry out, "I'll pay you back Charlie!"

Adams laughs and the guys stop pounding on me. My head is swimming and thinking straight is hard. "And how the fuck are you going to do that Curtis? I pay you! But, I'll tell you what. You can have your last paycheck in dope okay? One last hit before you're completely out on the streets again."

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and tosses me a capped needle. My drug of choice. They goons drag me out of the office and kick me out of the warehouse. That went a lot better than expected! I'm still alive and in one piece plus got a gift! Adams must've been more wacked than I gave him credit for.

On my way home, I stop to invite a few people from the circuit. I'd host one last party, but they had to bring their own dope. That always made for interesting circuits because more kinds of drugs were introduced. Most of the time, a circuit was known for one type only. I went home and straightened things up as best I could. The couch was fine, just needed turned over and reassembled. The card table was fine too, it just looked broken. All the glass was toast though. I swept it up as best I could and tossed it in the trash. Light was overrated anyway.

The party goes great. This time I get to socialize with the people I knew who invited a few friends to keep each other occupied. We exchanged drugs and stories. Surprisingly three others were from Vietnam of the twelve people there. I didn't know them from there and we didn't talk about it, but that was interesting to know. We were the more messed up guys there. The others were there mostly for fun or because they were hooked, but we were doing it to forget.

I pick up Adams needle and shoot up. It hits me just as hard as the first time. My body relaxes fast with my head dropping back on the couch. A feeling of gold rushes through me like a tidal wave. It recedes and my eyes roll back in my head. My breath was coming in slow shallow breaths. I felt my body spasm. I was completely detached though. All I can think is: Nothing gold can stay. I hear someone saying like 'he's OD...' Is this what death feels like? Is this how they felt? Because death isn't so bad for the person experiencing it then, just the people who have to live with it. I hope my brothers don't blame themselves.

The rest of the night passes by in and out of consciousness. I can't make sense of anything, but when I wake up in the morning I can tell I'm not dead. One of the guys from the circuit is there with me, but everyone else went home. I'm still fuzzy so I can't make sense of most of what he said, but he tells me I almost overdosed. They must have saved me. I thank him, but he shrugs me off and says it was a miracle. I don't believe in miracles anymore. Another bout of disorientation sweeps over me. I wasn't asleep, but I felt like I was in a dream. The next time I come to, he's gone and I'm alone again. I drag my aching body to my bedroom and shoot up. I don't know why I ever trusted Adams, after constantly saying just how untrustworthy he was. I felt stupid for being so blind.

Knock, knock, knock!

My head bobs and I drag myself down the hallway. I don't know how long I was out of it, but I still felt that way. I answer the door and barely remember that was a bad idea. Two-Bit is standing in my doorway in a tuxedo. He looks nice, but why is he so dressed up? I weave on my feet and grin at him. Today was Soda's wedding day! Didn't Two-Bit say he wanted me happy?

**This can only end badly! So you know I wanted to end the chapter with Pony's OD xD You're welcome! Please Review! **


	14. Chapter 14

So This Is War

Chapter Fourteen

**Ring the church bells! Sodapop is finally getting married! This is gonna pick right up from Chapter Thirteen in Two-Bit's perspective. I know! Things just keep getting more and more tragic! Thank you my readers for hanging in there once again! Here we go!**

Two-Bit's POV

Ponyboy swings the door open and my jaw drops. He's leaning against the door frame like he can barely support his own weight, looking half dead. His face is paler than I've seen it, the circles around his eyes darker. He looks like he hasn't bathed in a week and smells so much worse! He smells like alcohol, vomit, sweat, and marijuana. He lifts his red eyes to look at me and gives me a dopey grin. The stranger in front of me sways, tries to catch himself, and trips to the floor laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Ponyboy!" I squeak, lifting him under his arms and dragging him back into the apartment. I briefly let him go so I can slam the door shut then continue hauling him to the bathroom. How am I going to hide the fact that he's stoned out of his head from his brothers, from Soda? What in the world was he thinking in the first place? He knew today was Soda's wedding! He knew I'd be coming by today to pick him up!

I prop him up against the side of the tub since he apparently still hasn't regained the use of his limbs. He was still grinning at me with half lidded eyes. What am I supposed to do? I'm scared, and angry. This wasn't the brother I knew. This had to be some kind of sick joke. He wouldn't do this... But I knew he had and it wasn't the first time. It explained everything! The mood swings, his disappearances, why he looked like a sick ghost all the time, everything. "What the hell were you thinking, Ponyboy?" I ask in a weak voice. It hurt. It hurt so bad that he was this messed up and we didn't even see it...

"I wasn't thinking nothing," he slurred, bobbing his head as if his neck couldn't support it.

"What are you on, Pony?" I growl. He was not getting away with this. I was _not_ going to let him drown any longer.

"Nothing," he lies.

I help him into the tub and turn the cold water on. He jumps and lets out a yelp when the frigid rain falls on him. Even T-Bone was quieter than Pony when he got a bath! He glares at me with his bright eyes, slowly relaxing from the jolt. I make him wash right there, fully clothed and everything. He could at least look, and smell, presentable. Hopefully the cold water would help to sober him at least a little bit. It's worked a few times to sober me up, but that was from booze. I'm not a doctor though. I don't know what to do.

His hands fumble with the soap bar a few times, but eventually he's mostly clean and rinsed so I shut the water off. I help him stand up in his sopping wet clothes and to climb out of the slippery tub. Water stains my nice jacket. I order him to undress and dry off. Then I leave the bathroom door cracked and go straight across the narrow hallway to his bedroom. Immediately I spy a used needle and a belt sitting on the bed. I close my eyes tight, trying to pretend for one moment that this was all just a bad dream, but when I open them again the needle is still there smiling coldly at me. I go over to his closet and pick up the bagged suit from where it's hanging neatly on the door, unlike anything else in this apartment.

The door is shut when I come back out. I throw it open in a panic, but he's in the same state. Pony is sitting in just a towel on the floor with his head leaned back against the wall. His eyes are just slits under his eyelids, but he looks over when I barge in. I help him into his suit and have to button it for him because he can't work his hands properly. I've never seen anyone this messed up before.

I make him put on his black shoes and slap him lightly when he looks like he's about to fall asleep. He grins up at me with that hollow smile that chills me to the bone. I resist a shudder and drag him up to his feet. At least he smells better. We leave the grungy apartment that he calls home and I carefully help him down the stairs. The way he was walking, he would have stumbled down the first flight and possibly kept going. I kept his arm across my shoulder as he weaved down the stairs and across the parking lot. It was obvious he had no idea what was going on or where he even was. I toss him into the passenger seat and slam the door after him. How was I going to explain this?

We make it to the church twenty minutes later than when we were supposed to. Luckily, that hour was early so people were still setting up. I see Darry pacing agitatedly in front of the big open doors. He spies my car as I pull into a parking space and he storms towards us. I close my eyes again and hit my head against the headrest. I go out to face him.

He's seethes, "You're twenty minutes late, Two-Bit! I thought you were gonna get Pony then come right back?"

I chuckle nervously, thinking of a way to break it to him. I can't tell him the truth on Soda's wedding day. Then Soda would know! So I lie, "About Pony, Dar... Um, he went out with some friends last night and had a few drinks too many. Now don't get mad, this is Soda's wedding after all! I cleaned him up a bit before we left, but he's still plowed."

Darry turned bright red, the vein in his forehead throbbing. "He did what?!" He doesn't wait for an answer and goes over to Pony's side. He rips the door open and shouts, "Ponyboy! What the hell is the matter with you?! Our brother is getting married and you're trying to ruin it!" I wince. I couldn't defend Pony because I didn't know why he did it, but that was harsh even if it was the truth. I don't think Darry meant it to be, but it was. He didn't know that Pony was a junkie though. He wouldn't be yelling at him if he knew, not at this point anyway.

"Hey, Dar," Pony slurred, completely oblivious.

Darry raises a hand, infuriated. He takes a deep breath and runs it through his hair, catching himself in time. "Okay, let's go," he says roughly and drags Pony out of the car. Ponyboy sways on his feet and blinks blankly a few times. Darry drapes his brother's arm over his shoulders and supports him by the waist. We slowly make our way into the church. It feels so wrong for him to be here like this.

"How we gonna keep this from Soda, Dar?" I whisper.

He whispers back, "We keep him busy and away from Pony; that's how. He'll sober up with some time."

I nod for lack of something to say. I didn't know much about drugs, but I knew they took a lot longer to come down from than booze. I leave Pony with Darry and go find Soda. He's in one of the little classrooms getting ready. I've never seen Sodapop this tense. He's pale and his hands are shaking as he puts on his tie. I chuckle and he turns around with a big nervous grin. I give him a quick hug and slap him on the back.

"Congrats man! How's it feel to be tying the knot finally?"

He laughs. "You should be telling me, Two-Bit! I'm real nervous."

I shake my head with a small smile. He was right, but Kathy understood why I was postponing it. I think of something that might cheer him up, "Har har. Well look, Soda, she's still with you after all this time so I don't think you got anything to worry about. Plus she's carrying your baby and she seems just as excited about it as you! You love her, don't you?"

He thinks about it for a moment. He stares me right in the eye and says, "Absolutely."

I punch his arm. "Then what are you worrying for? She'll be right next to you at the alter."

He smiles at the thought, calming down for the first time all day. "So where's Ponyboy? I wanted to talk with him before the ceremony."

I panic. What am I supposed to say? I won't ruin Soda's big day and can only hope that Darry is taking care of the Ponyboy mess. I quickly come up with an excuse, "He's helping Darry set up. You'll see him later though."

Soda nods, trying to hide his disappointment. It doesn't last long before he's back to being the happy groom. We've got an hour to go. I keep Soda as confined to the room as possible. There isn't much to do after fifteen minutes of preening. We carefully explore the halls of the church. He thought it was odd that we were being so sneaky, but I told him it was because we didn't want to run into the bride. He completely bought it even though the real reason was Ponyboy.

At one point, I turned a corner to find Darry trying to get Pony to walk in a straight line down the hall. We spotted each other in time for me to push Soda back and for Darry to usher Pony into one of the rooms. I breathed a sigh of relief when the coast was clear. That was our only almost encounter. Finally the time came for Soda to stand at the base of the stairs. I eyed my watch after a quick glance around the room revealed two important figures missing.

Darry and Pony come rushing in through the side entrance. I hold my breath nervously when I see that Darry is still supporting Pony by the arm. They come to a stop next to me and Darry takes the spot closest to Soda with Pony in the middle. Pony blinks and sways on his feet. I discreetly steady him with my hand on his elbow. He seems like he's finally coming back down to terra firma.

The guests filter in slowly. There aren't many, but they fill the small church in no time. The minister joins us and the procession begins. Three lovely ladies file down the aisle including Kathy and Lacy. My fiance has never looked more stunning, and she's a real looker too. I imagine her in a white gown going through the same motions and grin while a nervous sweat begins to break out. It wasn't the thought of being with her forever- I looked forward to that- I've just always seen marriage as an end to a relationship.

The ring bearer, T-Bone, is released from the double doors at the other end of the aisle and I step forward so he can see me. The hours of grooming was well worth it. That dog fought me with every brush and bubble, but his fur coat gleamed in the lighting, making him look like the heroic war dog he was. The bow-tie collar was a nice touch too. A decorative pillow was secured to his back with two rings. I was afraid he was going to tear off down the aisle and lose them, but he calmly trotted to my side and they stayed.

The familiar wedding cadence played from the piano at the back of the room. Everyone stood and looked at the double doors. Dressed in white, came Soda's fair girl. She was a lovely bride, smile so bright it lit up the church. Her father looked like he was fighting tears as they marched down the aisle together. He handed her off to Soda and the ceremony officially begin.

The minister began, "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of these two loved ones..." The introduction lasts ten minutes before they exchange vows. I hear several tears break out in the audience and Pony is still zoned out. I resist the urge to smack him. They ask for the rings and I bend down to untie them from T's back. I give Darry her ring and the matron of honor Soda's. They pass the rings to the happy couple. They place the rings on each others fingers. Finally, the minister concludes, "You may now kiss the bride." Soda enthusiastically grabs his wife and leans her back for a deep kiss. Amused laughter waves through the crowd and he uprights her again, both with smiles wider than a kid on Christmas.

We march out of the church and gather in the parking lot. Slowly we give directions to the reception and drive off separately. The hall is already set up when we get there which is good news. We all crowd in and sit at the white linen tables. The wedding party is seated at the head of the room in front of the dance floor. Food is passed around by caterers and we all wait in anticipation. Someone hands Darry the microphone.

Darry groans and stands up with the mic in hand. He chuckles nervously into it, "Well, as you all know, I'm not very good at public speaking so let me make this fast. My brother, Sodapop, can be a handful at times and he's kept life... interesting to say the least throughout the years. But I could never have asked for a better brother than the ones I've got. When I was asked to assume guardianship of my brothers, my first thought was how in the world am I gonna raise two teenage boys when I'm just barely an adult myself? Well, Sodapop, you and Pony did most of the work. There were a few bumps along the way, but you were always right on top of things. If Mom and Dad were here today, I know they would agree that you've become a great man. We couldn't be prouder of you, little brother. And welcome to the family, Sis. He's your responsibility now! Cheers!"

Everyone chuckled and drank to Darry's moving toast. The matron of honor didn't have nearly as touching a speech, but they weren't sister either. We drank again as she concluded and I could finally breath. Everything had gone smoothly despite the hiccups. Now Ponyboy could act as plastered as he wanted because this was a celebration party and he wouldn't be the only one. T-Bone whines from his spot on the floor by my chair and I give him a piece of meat. I look over at Pony who is trying to wake up by running a hand down his face. He looks hungover which is fine considering that was the story.

Sodapop comes over and pokes him. Pony gives him a tired smile, "Congratulations, Soda!"

Soda grins, having not stopped since he started hours ago, "Where were you earlier, little brother? I was gonna talk to you before I got hitched, make sure it was cool with you."

Pony rubs his eye. "I was helping Darry set up. You know that it's fine cool though! We've already had this talk, remember? I'm happy for you big brother."

Soda gives him a quick hug and beams, "You'll always be my little brother, and nothing's gonna change that."

Mrs. Curtis dances with her emotionally wrecked father for one slow song. He finally quit crying long enough to dance, but he started up again as soon as the song ended. Then it's time for the newly weds to dance. Soda embraces her like this is something they do everyday. He's completely at home with her as his partner. He doesn't do anything fancy or complicated, always treating her like porcelain since learning she was pregnant, but it was a beautiful dance. Ponyboy even stood at the edge of the crowd and watched with a light grin.

We party the night away without incident. Everyone either ignored Pony or assumed he was drunk and he behaved himself. I couldn't look in his direction without nerves bunching up in my stomach, but it went alright. Darry was still hacked off at him, but he was civil since it was a celebration. Only I knew what was really wrong with him and I had no idea how to tell them. I gave in to the upbeat atmosphere for a few hours and put my worries on the back burner.

**Yay Soda! Boo Pony! What's Two-Bit gonna do? Thanks for reading and please review! Sorry it's taking me so long to update, Senior year is starting off with a bang! **


	15. Chapter 15

So This Is War

Chapter Fifteen

**Do we enjoy Two-Bit's point of view? I've never done it before and I'm not sure how much of his character I'm capturing! This one is also in his view and is going to be very short!**

Two-Bit's POV

Soda and his wife went honeymooning for a couple of days up in Oklahoma City. They didn't have money to go anywhere fancy, but it didn't faze them in the least. We all saw them off in Soda's wedding adorned car and waved as they drove away, tin cans singing behind them below the 'Just Married' sign. It didn't surprise me that he was the first of us to get married considering he was always the ladies' man, but it did surprise me that he was also the first to be having a kid. I always thought that'd be Steve or mine's mistake. They were back now, but both working.

Darry and Lacey have been seeing a lot more of each other. The last few times I visited, her and Ash were over. They were all a perfect match for one another. If Darry ever had a kid, he'd be exactly like Ash and I could tell Darry wanted him to be. Lacey was a strong woman from her experiences as a single mother, with a gentle heart. She balanced Darry. The hourglass was already turning on their engagement.

Since the others were all preoccupied and I worked the night shift, I went over to Pony's. It's the a few days after the wedding so I expect him to be level this time. I knock on his door and wait. There's no answer, but I know he's here. His car is in the parking lot. I rap the door again, a little harder, and he answers this time. He's standing on his own two feet with clear eyes. He looks so much more like the real Pony.

I tackle my little brother, making him stumble back a few steps into the apartment. He returns the hug loosely and invites me in. I don't let go for few more minutes because I've been so worried about him for months now and my recent discovery only brought all that crashing back down on me at once. How can this Pony, the one that acts like the real one, be all those other ones? He was the smart kid who was going somewhere in life. Now... now I had to put him back together before he killed himself.

Kathy knew what I was doing. I told her last night so she would know where I was. She was the only person who knew though and that's how I wanted to keep it for now. Darry and Soda would do anything for Pony, but I felt like this was something I had to do. I found him first, so I was going to try and help him first. They didn't know about what he was doing anymore than I did, so why hand them the crushing guilt by telling them?

Pony and I sit on the worn sofa. The coffee table is holding a wrapped bag of white powder. It didn't look like he'd used yet. I glance over at him to see that he's staring at it with a dark expression of remorse and hate. He knew what he was doing to himself. He knew what I was here to help him kick it.

I clear my throat and he tears his eyes away. "So, Pony... Why'd you do it?"

He looks down at the floor. His voice emotionless, he murmurs, "You know why, Two-Bit. Everything is my fault and I just wanted to forget that."

I can't help but feel frustration creep into me. My voice rises, "Ponyboy, how many times do we have to go over this? None of it was your fault! Can't you get that through your thick skull?"

His shoulders slump. I feel guilty for putting more weight on him, but it was the truth! He needed to accept that the only thing he was responsible for was what he was doing to himself right now. His thin voice wavers, "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything! I-I just wanted to forget what happened."

I lightly punch his shoulder and he looks up. I give him a weak grin and say, "When you gonna listen to me, Pony? You think too much." He returns his own wane smile and I chuckle. This was the Pony I knew. I could talk to him, get through to him, and hopefully help him. My face falls and I grow serious again. "So... You know what we gotta do now, don't you?"

Fear lights up in his sad eyes. "N-now?" he stutters. I nod slowly. Did he honestly think I would let this continue a moment longer? He breathes deeply, determination growing inside of him. "Okay. Let's do it then. I assume we're doing this cold turkey?"

I hadn't thought about that. I wanted him off the junk, but this wouldn't be an easy process even if he agreed to it. I'm no dummy; I know that withdrawal is hell. Considering the high doses he was using, would weening him off it even work? Would I be able to handle him if we did try cold turkey? I nod hesitantly in answer to the question hanging in the air. We could try it at least. He was getting off of it one way or another.

Pony stands up roughly and rips the bag from the table with a mad rage in his eye. He was through with the junk. We pick apart the couch cushions and find more drugs hiding. I help him carry them all to the bathroom and we dump it all in the sink. I follow him to the bedroom and we tear apart that room as well. He has it stashed under his bed, in pockets of clothes hanging in his closet, taped to the back of his dresser drawers. We bring that pile and throw in with the other mix. All in all, there's probably three bags of cocaine, two filled with a collage of pills, four unused needles, three capped and ready, and one bottle of morphine from a hospital. I've seen drugstores with less lethal shit.

I let him waste the first bag. He stoically holds the bag of coke tilted slightly, prepared for the long ride down the porcelain express. His hand shakes slightly, fear dancing behind his eyes, but he slowly tips the sand until it rains into the waiting water. He blinks when the bag is empty like he can't believe what just happened. I cock a questioning eyebrow at him and he nods. Together we flush the rest of the stash and bust the needles.

We go back out to the living room and reassemble the couch. He moves lighter, like a huge weight has been lifted. I don't know exactly when withdrawal will start, but I'm sure he'll start showing the signs early. He deserves a good time before that. I suggest, "Hey, why don't we go over to the DX and see Soda? I'll buy you a Pepsi."

He thinks for a moment and shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

I sling my arm across his shoulders and we trudge out of the apartment. "You just let me know if we need to be heading back early, kid."

Pony glances at me, shocked. "You ain't gonna tell them?"

"No. At least not yet."

He looks down again at his feet and jams his thumbs into his pocket. "How's come?" he asks quietly, ashamed of himself.

"I don't know, Pony. I guess I just feel like it's all of our faults, but it's my responsibility since I found out first."

We don't talk the rest of the way to the DX. I park and we go in, the bells above the door chiming brightly. Soda looks up from his place behind the counter and a smile lights up the room. He jumps up and sits by the register with his feet dangling over the candy display. "Well now, what'd I do to deserve the company of such bums?"

I chuckle and mess up his hair before he can protect himself. "Who's the bum now, greaser?"

Soda hops down and tackles me the gritty linoleum. I hear Pony give a half laugh as I'm pinned effortlessly. Soda lets up and smiles again, at Pony this time. He says to me, "I guess means you." I snort and accept the hand he offers me. He turns to Pony. "Hey, Ponyboy! I was gonna stop by after work today, but it seems like you had the same idea."

Pony gives a nervous smile. It was a good thing we stopped by then. He wouldn't be nearly this cool in a few hours. "Oh yeah? And why's that, Soda? I thought you had a wife to go home to now!"

We all laugh and Soda beams just like Pony intended. Soda continues with his inopportune request, "We'll seeing how I gotta work late for the next week, I was wondering if you could pick said wife up from the bookstore on Sunday. What do you say, little brother? Got any plans that night?"

I look over at him nervously. He chews on this thumbnail for a moment, weighing his options. "I think I can make it," he says finally.

I shoot him the 'are-you-out-of-your-mind' look. What was he thinking? He'd either be stoned or going through withdrawal still! I try to cover for him, "Hey, Pony, you gonna make it? What with that thing you going on and all..."

Soda looks between me and Ponyboy curiously. Darn! I didn't think about him. Now I've pushed Pony in a corner. "Nah, I'll make it."

"What've you got going on? I can find somebody else if I need to." Soda says, interested and confused.

"Uh, just a job interview. It's no big deal."

Soda grabs him in a hug that startles him. "Of course it is! Things may finally starting to get back to normal for you!"

He pries Soda off and grins softly, "Yeah, maybe. And Steve's getting back this week too."

"What?!" Soda and I shout in unison. We had no idea that Pony even got to talk with him, let along that he was getting out! What was he thinking, keeping that to himself? We had to make plans and celebrate! Surely Stevie would want a beer or two after his long stretch in the Penn. I'm sure I would!

Pony winces and scratches the back of his head. "Uh, yeah. He told me when I went to visit him last week. Didn't I mention that?"

"Um, no. You didn't," Soda snaps coldly. Pony's shoulders slump again. He knew that he'd used up all of his free cards with us. We were all tired of Ponyboy being so self-absorbed ever since he got back. I was just as sick of it as his brothers, but now I knew the real reason. I put a hand on Soda's shoulder and he looks up. He nods an apology to his brother who in turn gives a sad smile.

Soda's manager comes in from the back. He sees Soda out from behind the counter and barks, "Curtis! Get back to work!" Because of my hyper vigilance of Ponyboy right now, I noticed how he stiffens up instantly. Soda gives a lazy salute to his manager and hops back over the counter to stand behind the register. The fainest shudder passes through Pony and I know he can't help but compare it to 'Nam. Gosh, but that was almost eight months ago and it was still all he thought about!

He starts getting jumpy after that so we leave. I take him back to the apartment and use the payphone on the street corner to call my boss. He gave me the night off with the exception that T-Bone and I work double shifts tomorrow. Pony and I jog upstairs. I throw open the door and he darts in, already starting to pace like a wild animal. He's pale and shaky because of his recent flashback. I knew what he wanted, but he wasn't saying and I wasn't giving in.

I try to get him to calm down, but he won't have it. When he tries to sit down his heel hammers the carpet at fifty miles per hour. When he get up to pace, he wants to be able to sit and rest. He can't focus on anything and I know it's only a matter of time before he breaks down. He is trying though. I can tell that he really wants to get off of the drugs.

I turn on the radio and break out some cards. Pony sits across from me on the floor, forcing himself to stay still. I shuffle the cards and we play a hand of poker. He makes it halfway through before he slams down his cards in a fit and dashes for the kitchen. I hurry after him because he starts cursing up a storm and tearing apart the sink. He dismantles the handles and tries to rip up the sink bed straight from the counter before I step in. I grab him from behind, locking my arms in front of his chest so he can't easily escape. He lunges back and my back hits the wall. That hurt like you wouldn't believe! I don't let go and he calms down.

"What the hell was that about?" I gasp, reluctantly releasing him. He acted like the sink personally attacked him.

He's breathing heavy too after that, but he seems a lot calmer and doesn't look like he wants to pace or destroy things. He growls and motions towards the sink, "That damn leaky facet was driving me nuts!" A leaky facet... Okay then.

I lead him back out to the living room and he sprawls on the couch. I sigh and shuffle the deck. This feels like babysitting a little kid! Pony's tossing and turning like he can't get comfortable so I put aside the cards and go sit in front of him on the floor. "You okay, Pony?" I ask with growing concern. He kept wincing and a light sweat was breaking out on his forehead.

Pony squeezes his eyes tight and nods. "Yeah, just cramps, Two-Bit. Ain't nothing I can't handle." Famous last words. He quietly wreathes for another hour before he starts whimpering. His obvious discomfort makes me cringe inwardly. I sit at his side like a worried hen until he breaks down a few hours later.

I was half asleep, playing guard, when he drops himself over the edge of the sofa. He crawls towards me with sweat dampening his clothes and dripping from his hair, too weak and wracked with pain to do anything more. Pony balls up my shirt in his tight fist, dragging me closer. He whines miserably, "Please, Two-Bit, I tried! I tried! But you don't know what it's like! I need it. I just need something-anything! C'mon man, please? Please Two-Bit, old buddy, old pal?"

If a heart could physically shatter with pieces lodging into your other organs, mine did about five times right then. I couldn't say anything and I couldn't do anything. I knew it was just the drugs, but he sounded in agony! He figures out that I'm not going to give in and starts pitching a royal fit; cursing me out in between gasps and sobs, shaking with pain and rage.

The longest night of my life drags on. He falls into an exhausted sleep just before dawn and I sigh in relief. I don't know how I'm going to do this. I couldn't take watching him suffer much more. I leave him a note explaining I was going home to rest and telling him to stay cool. The physical withdrawal was mostly over now, or so I hoped. I do one last check around the apartment for any drugs, but don't find any. I want to trust him not to go ruining everything we did here last night. I pick up my keys and shut the door behind me.

**Ahh! What do we think should happen next? Reviews please! Good, bad, all welcome! **


	16. Chapter 16

So This Is War

Chapter Sixteen

**Thank you my readers for the reviews as always! If things are a little shaky in the story right now, pardon. I'm not sure how to proceed just yet to get it where I want. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Back to Pony's POV!**

Light peeks through the blinds to stab me in the eyes. I groan and drape a heavy arm over my face. My body feels like roadkill that's laid on the highway for days. I was in so much pain that now all I feel is a lethargic numbness from head to toe so different from the numbness of the drugs. Slowly I lift my arm from eyes and glance around the room. It's empty. No warden. Was last night just a bad trip that I'd dreamed up?

I sit up like an old man, careful of the napalm lacing my bones. Even with that my head is throbbing and my stomach tosses uneasily. Black spots dance in my vision, pushing me back against the couch. I let them play on the wall for a minute before they subside and go home. I lean forward even slower this time and look around the room. Everything is exactly where I... Wait, what's that white piece of paper on the corner of the coffee table?

I reach out for the paper, shifting my balance to my legs which fail and collapse me to the floor. Dammit! My breath hitches in a half sob, but I drag myself over to the coffee table. I don't see Two-Bit anywhere. He took my drugs away and left me alone to die. He probably left the second we flushed it, leaving me to hallucinate the rest of it. I'm completely alone in the world, lost on a glass island while the world moves on unaware and without care.

The note is from Two-Bit. The words blur, but eventually they stop moving long enough for me to read the chicken scratch: _Pony, I hope you don't wake up before I get back, but if you did then you're reading this. I'm sorry to leave you alone right now, but I'm heading home to catch some shut eye. I trust you don't need me to babysit you twenty-four seven. You did real good last night. Keep it up, kiddo. We all miss our brother! I'll be back real soon, Two-Bit_

Rereading it is painful. Not only did it affirm that I was terrible to them, it proved I was terrible to myself as well. There is nothing more I want right now than a fix and I hate myself for it. Two-Bit was wrong. I did need a babysitter because I'm weak. I can't handle anything. I can't handle this.

I use the furniture to pull myself back up. I use whatever I can to support me as I trudge down the hall. I change out of my sweat stained shirt and into something clean. I'm exhausted even though I just woke up, but my head is swimming with negative thoughts that sweep me into action. I shrug into my jacket and inch out of the apartment. I've never hated the elevator being broken down more.

I drive ten miles under the speed limit to the shadiest side of town. I pushed here a few times, but never stayed long. It was mostly broken down abandoned buildings. Any businesses were either run by high-strung twitches who kept shotguns at the ready or by greasy burnouts who forgot they owned it half of the time. This was where the runaways, addicts, cons, and hippies roamed free. The good people of Tulsa were blind to this place and even the bad warned their kids to steer clear. Nobody would think to look for me here- if they went looking at all.

I didn't bother pulling into the overgrown turn in. Instead I drove right over the curb and into the grass until I was close to the door of the abandoned grocery. This was the rendezvous for good junk dirt cheap. It was risky because everyone pushed here and sometimes you got beat. There was nothing more disappointing than wasting all your money on fake tar. Who cared if it could kill you? They beat you! That only happened to me once, but I was royally pissed. It was my own stupid fault for not getting a taste first, but I was new at the time. I didn't know better. I do now though- unfortunately.

What the hell am I doing here? Two-Bit was trying to help me get clean! That's what I wanted! I didn't want shoot up all day chasing away demons that would never go away. I wanted to get better. No, I _want_ to get better... My nose starts to run and gives me a sudden burst of energy. I start pacing in front of the building, trying to do the right thing. Want and need are two different things here. I was close to drying out again. Withdrawal was like a roller coaster. You're clear for a few hours, but then you're curled into a ball again trying not to scream while your body is cramping your very bones. I _needed_ not to go through with that again.

Before I can think twice, I dash into the store and go straight through the dusty registers to the back aisles. There's quite a few cats hanging around today. I go up to one I've seen around before and slap my jeans pocket. Shit! My wallet is gone! Two-Bit must not trust me as much as he claimed. Damn him! Even if he's right this time! I come off as more confident and in control than I am. "If you give me something now, I'll pay you double later," my voice is strong, but I can hear the nervous quiver. I lick my cracked lips, ready to fight for it.

"Oh yeah, man? You know I ain't been seeing you around much lately. You trying to get straight or something?" the cat drawls lazily, only mildly interested.

I glare at him. "Not exactly by choice. Now c'mon, what'd yah say?"

He sighs, unfolding his arms from across his chest. "Look man, this is business. I can't go giving out freebies to every user looking for a quick fix. Just give me the money now and we don't got-" I cut him off by grabbing hold of his jacket and tossing him up against one of the empty shelves. He chuckles nervously, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Give me the fucking dope man! I'll pay you the goddamn money when I fucking have it," I scream. I drop my arms down to my sides with him still backed against the shelf. His hand shakily recedes into his jacket pocket and comes out with a bag. I snatch it without even bothering to guess what it is and jog back out to the car. I put in in gear and screech out of the lot, leaving scorch marks on the pavement.

I park in the garage and look over at the bag sitting in the seat next to me. I break into a sweat, more from nerves than the withdrawal. It's so tempting, my anchor, and so wrong. I don't want this. Why do I need it so bad? I rip it off the cracked leather and shove it in my pocket. I jog up the stairs and rush into my apartment, kicking the door shut behind me. I take it to the bathroom and look in the mirror- for the first time really seeing what I was. A drug addict.

The stranger stares back at me with hollow and desperate eyes. They're bloodshot marbles inside holes as black as my drawing charcoal. My face is sickly white under the small beads of perspiration. My lips were cracked and dry like a fish drying on the sand. My nose was red and raw, slightly starting to leak. To top it all off, my once tuff hair was now greasy and stringy like a runaway or a fresh hippie. The reflection holds a clear bag of white powder in his hand, a weight as familiar to him as a rifle. This isn't who I am.

Someone with the worst timing known to man knocks on the front door. I shove the bag under the sink behind the pipe. I splash water on my guilty face and straighten my clothes as if they were a give away. Two-Bit pushes the door open just as I'm walking down the hall to open it. He looks concerned, making me feel even more guilty.

"Hey, Pony," he starts calmly, "had me worried for a second there."

I chuckle nervously. "Oh, uh, yeah. I was coming before you busted in here like some kind of fireman or something."

He laughs and gives me a warm smile. "You seem a lot better kid."

Sometimes I hate him. I can only nod stiffly, unable to even lie convincingly anymore. "You too," I say sarcastically.

Two-Bit rolls his eyes and tries to tassel my hair. I dodge his arm and jump on him. He stumbles back, but manages to get loose. I'm nowhere near as strong right now. I go after him again, laughing. We stumble to the floor and wrestle for several minutes. Darry should have thought to have less furniture when we lived there. Several lamps would have been spared. I hold my own until Two-Bit finally pins me and I holler uncle. He gets off and helps me to my feet.

I don't even feel like I need that hit now. That little piece of childhood brought back some of that carefree innocence without the use of artificial stimulants. Maybe I should tell him about the stash in the bathroom so we can get rid of it... No, not yet. That way if I need it, I have it. There's no way I'm going back the mart unless it's of dire need.

We get out a deck of cards and turn up the radio. I lose another hand of poker and owe Two-Bit five bucks. He knew I was hard up for cash though so he let it go. We play a few more hands, with me actually winning one, before the temporary level drops me back into withdrawal. He notices the sweat starting to drip from my brow, my increasing nerves, and shifting eyes shortly after it hits me. He forces me back to the couch before the cramps return and sits on the floor with his back against the couch like last night. His hands deftly arrange the cards into the solitaire layout, so fast there were sparks and then a card on the carpet like magic.

The rest of the day passes like that. He only leaves once to pick up some food that he forces me to eat. Food is a bad idea. I nearly gag as I swallow the first bite. It tastes fine, but I'm not used to eating and my stomach is angry to begin with. An hour later, as I'm starting to disorientate again, it makes a reappearance on my carpet. My senses are so frayed right now that the putrid stench sends me racing on wobbly legs to collapse in front of the toilet. My stomach heaves until it's empty again and then keeps trying.

A cool cloth soothes the back of my neck. I look up at Two-Bit and we exchange weak smiles, me from exhaustion and him from concern. Cold turkey is kicking both our asses. I want to get straight, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I'm so close to the cure right now I can almost see the clear plastic of the bag under the sink. My stomach cramps tightly again, tearing my eyes away from the sink and to the porcelain god.

When I finish puking I don't have the energy left to fall asleep sitting up. My fingers numbly slip from the sweaty white surface and I drop like a corpse onto the tile. I curl up in a weak ball, shaking. In 'Nam, some of the wounded soldiers would shake violently from the intense pain and shock and I would have to pin them down while patching them up. Is this what they felt? A pain so great that you're shaking from the exhaustion of experiencing it while being at a point that's completely numb to it? Is this what death feels like, or is death more peaceful?

I wake up in my bed with my blankets wrapped around my ankles. My clothes are damp with drying sweat. I kick the pile of blankets off and look around the room. I'm alone again! I can't be alone right now! "Two-Bit? Two-Bit!" I call hoarsely, nerves clenching tightly. A light sweat breaks out again and I shiver. There's an itch under my skin that's begging me end my misery with what's under the sink. No! "Two-Bit!" I loudly groan out again.

He stumbles in quickly, braking with the the door frame, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He must have been sleeping on the couch. "Yeah, Pony? What's up man?"

I breathe in a sigh of relief. I'm not alone after all. He didn't leave me. I close my heavy eyes and slur quietly, "What day is it?"

"Thursday. Why?"

"Steve gets out today."

Two-Bit's eyes widen in disbelief and excitement. I know he's missed him too, possibly even more than me considering I've been high for the last six months. He throws his hands up in the air and cheers, "Woo! Alright! Stevie's coming home!" He pauses and stops dancing around. The joy is filtered with caution that I recognize as his worry over me. "You gonna be okay with that?"

Nodding, I chuckle and say, "Yeah. It's his place too ain't it?"

"Well sure, but I just mean..." he doesn't sound convinced, but he's still excited- with good reason.

"It's fine Two-Bit," I assure him. In truth I have no idea if it is or not. Was Steve clean now or did he make do like I had in jail? Getting straight didn't seem fair if he was still gonna be on. Just because I was the first to start didn't mean I should be first to quit.

Two-Bit's improved mood helps to lighten my own. He takes my words at face value and is back to bouncing on his heels like a rabbit before a race. He's got his goofy grin back and is just waiting for me to tell him when. I torture him for a few moments as I slowly, painfully, sit up in bed and blink to clear my head. It kills him when I dragged one foot off the bed, then the other one just as carefully. He rolls his eyes and gives up. He brushes passed me and goes over to my dresser to get out fresh clothes. He throws them on the bed next to me and then ushers me to hurry up so we can go. He leaves the room with the door cracked.

I chuckle under my breath and slip into my new clothes. I start to tug on the T-shirt when I remember I need sleeves. I rip it off and toss it in the corner of the room, my mood trying to come down again. I root through the few belongings I have and find an acceptable long sleeve shirt. My arms are scarred with faded burns and track marks. How long before those go away?

I shake my head of these thoughts, with energy returning to me, and throw the door open to join my buddy. We trot down the stairs and to the car lot. Which car to take? I could trick Steve into thinking I wrecked his and give it back as a gift, or drive his car and give it back right off the bat. I tell Two-Bit my idea and we both agree that's the way only way to go.


	17. Chapter 17

So This Is War

Chapter Seventeen

**Thanks for the reviews! In honor of them, I shall endeavor to update faster! Continuing in Ponyboy's POV. Here we go!**

We drive for over an hour before we come to the fenced penitentiary. It looms in the window like Nguyen's fortress in hell, eager to consume fresh victims. Guards are patrolling the perimeter, reminding me of the patrols in the POW camps. The tall gates are topped with barbed wire and the underside rests on a rocky dust bowl called the ground. It was flat desert for miles around, nothing but farmland for a few more miles, and then small civilizations were met until Tulsa. Sadly, even the jungle was homier. Steve spent six months holed up _here_?

Two-Bit parks in front of the gate just off the road. I stiffly climb out and lean my back against the side of the car to wait with my arms crossed over my chest. It's so sunny I wish I had sunglasses. I squint and blink several times to try and clear the sunspots. Sweat drips down my back and a guard comes closer to the gate, waving us over. I still feel like shit, but he couldn't know that... right?

My old buddy saves me by walking over there himself. I relax some and resume my wait. I see them exchange words, but can't hear them from this far away. The guard walks off, presumably to pass the message to one of the others in the inner gate. There's at least three fences inside that I can see until the big, barred metal door. This is tighter security than I've ever seen!

After fifteen minutes that feel like hours under the burning gaze of the experienced inn keepers, the hidden door in the chain-link unlocks and Steve is escorted out. Two-Bit tackles him in a hug that he breaks off with a manly pat to the back. I smile at him nervously, unsure, and wipe my clammy palms on my jeans. Steve grins widely, as excited as Two-Bit. We hug quickly and all jump in Two-Bit's car to get away from this nightmarish place. As I predicted, Steve notices.

Steve looks around the familiar interior as Two-Bit starts up the engine and asks, "So, Pony, how's my baby doing? Why we in this piece of shit? No offense Two-Bit."

Two-Bit gasps, "Take that back! This ride's in great shape compared to yours." He rubs the dashboard soothingly. "Shh, baby, he didn't mean it. Don't you mind old Stevie-boy; he's just jealous."

I snort and roll my eyes with a huge smile tugging up the corners of my mouth. Steve's jaw drops and his face flushes. His eyes are as wide as marbles, or a cartoon character's. Oh but if I had a camera. That look is priceless! He sputters, "What the hell happened to my car?"

Two-Bit and I burst out laughing. Steve slowly settles down in his seat, afraid to believe us if it wasn't a joke. I chuckle, "What, ain't you got any faith in me, Stevie?"

"Not if you wrecked my car," he retorts stiffly, miffed by the prank. Steve took it harder than we meant. He knew it was just for fun so why was he getting so uptight about it? It wasn't even a big prank. What would he have done if we'd dressed the car up to look trashed?

I shrug and Two-Bit tries to lighten the mood. "C'mon now, Stevie, it was just a little joke. So how good does it feel to be out now anyway?"

Steve shrugs and stares out the window. He stays quiet for a few minutes before he mumbles, "Feels like leaving 'Nam..."

Nobody has anything to say to that. Two-Bit probably was thinking that was a good thing, but for Steve and me it was a bad feeling. Leaving Vietnam felt like leaving home. I look at him and try to gauge from his appearance how he really is. He's still ghostly white with greasy dark hair and dark circles under his dull eyes. His skin is taunt over the muscle and bone. There's a hint of latent aggression in his rigid posture that tell me all I need to know. He was still using, and using hard.

The car stops by the curb in front of the apartment. Two-Bit swings around in his seat to look at both of us and says, "Alright, I'll be back around eight so we can celebrate. Don't y'all run off now." Steve is out of the car in a flash, leaving the door to slam shut. We exchange a shrug at his rude behavior and Two-Bit sends me a look that says, 'watch out for him'. He doesn't even need to say it. Of course, his worries were probably a lot more innocent than mine. He never believed Steve's drug charge.

I nod and get out of the car slowly. He waves like a mom at a bus stop and peels away. I look up at the shit hole apartment, squinting from the sun, nerves clamping down in my gut. A sweat breaks out again and the jitters propel me forward. Might as well get it over with. I gracefully jog up the stairs, huffing and puffing all the way. Steve is already in the apartment judging by the empty hall and open door. I slam the door behind to me to get it to close.

Steve is frantically combing through the old hiding spots for something, anything. He looks up at me with a stricken expression. "What'd you do with the stuff?"

I stand glued to the spot like a deer in headlights. He looks pissed off and chuckles darkly. When I don't answer, he puts it together. "Oh, so Ponyboy is trying to get clean, huh? Yeah right. How long's it been since your last fix?"

Absently I scratch at my arm through my sleeve. I shift my eyes around nervously and teeter my weight from one foot to the other. Another moment passes with him looking expectant at me, in between looking for dope. I try to answer proudly, my voice quivering despite it, "Over twenty-four hours."

He rears his maniac head again to laugh once. He smiles darkly at me, giving me chills, and sits on the edge of the couch. Time crawls in slow motion. Steve reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls his clenched hand out and places it over the coffee table. He looks up at me evilly. I stare intently at his hand the whole time and he finally lifts it. There is a bag full of sparkling dust on the wood. Shit!

My face drains of blood, I can feel it. Sweat pours off me in waves and I shudder as if there were icy claws stroking my spine. My throat lets out a strangled cry. I tear my eyes away, spinning to face the opposite direction. A harsh crinkle of paper grates my eardrums. I look behind me to see him prepping it. NO! I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and sit on the floor, hugging my knees and rocking back and forth. I will resist. I will not break...

Steve laughs. "Give it up, Pony. You ain't got the strength to quit cold turkey," he taunts. I hear the flick of a lighter.

"Please don't," I plead in volumes less than a whisper.

He gets up and comes around to crouch in front of me. He gets eye level and holds out the lit joint. He says quietly, "C'mon, Pony, it'll make you feel better. It'll be just like before." I bite my tongue until I taste copper. My eyelids protect me as best they can. "No?" Yes, yes, yes! "Alright then, but don't judge me. This is my life and my decision," he concludes and stands back up. My words to him that made him pick up this shit. He takes a hit from the joint and blows the smoke at me before walking away.

Oh that smell! I inhale the silky air deeply and hold the breath in. I open my mouth and let it spill out in a cloud like dragon fire. It isn't much, just the tease of a taste that knots my insides. I look over my shoulder one last time to see him sitting on the couch with his head leaned back, looking peaceful with a steaming joint in his hand. I want it so bad it hurts more than even when I was drying out. Now the temptation is there to finish me off. I can't have it... I want to, but I...

Stomach cramps return with vengeance and reason abandons me. I practically crawl down the hall to the bathroom. Frantic, I dig under the sink for the bag. I didn't have it so far back did I? Is it gone? My fingers curl around the slick plastic. I breathe a sigh of relief and get it out. I'm already sitting on the floor so I dump out a small portion of the powder and expertly snort it up off the tile. It hits me like a slow train and I can't for the life of me remember why I tried to give it up. It isn't a rush, but the calm seeps into me and I stay languid on the floor with my back against the sink.

Time passes, maybe minutes, maybe hours. At some point later I get up and drag my heavy limbs out to the living room. I broke the clock and never replace it so there's no telling the time. The shadows are stretching across the floor, ready to ensnare something in their jagged clutches. I shiver at the thought and take a step back just to be safe. Steve is still on the couch and smiles deviously like he could tell. Did I really have such a terrible poker face? Everyone always knows when I'm high! Except my brothers... for now.

"Didn't I say you couldn't do it? Looks like, uh, I was right," Steve boasts.

I snap, "Shut the fuck up. It's _your_ fault."

His smile fades, replaced with hostility I've only ever seen towards his enemies. Slowly, and menacingly, he seethes, "My fault? _My_ fault? Who the fuck dragged me into this shit? Who couldn't get his shit together and so threw it all away?"

"Both of us, you asshole!"

Steve punches me in the jaw, something I never saw coming. The force knocks me down on all fours to the carpet. I taste metal and spit it out. It's blood. How could he do that to me? The Steve I knew would never hit a buddy, let alone one as close as me! I saved his life! I've lived with him for the past two years! This wasn't my buddy. I'm not Ponyboy and this isn't Steve Randle.

I look up and see the rage still burning in his eyes. He's posed like he's ready to fight, dancing on his heels with his fists raised. I stumble around, still on all fours, like I'm down for the count. Just when his guard is about to go down, I jerk his legs out from under him. I throw myself on top of him and try to pin him. He punches me in the gut and I grunt. I slam my own fist on his ribcage. He manages to get his knees up and uses the leverage to kick me off. I'm thrown several paces away and roll to my feet as fast as I can.

It isn't fast enough. Steve lunges after me before I can catch my balance, knocking me flat on my back. He's wild; too fast and too strong from the adrenaline. His aggression pins me down. He sits on my chest, forcing the air out, with his knees digging into my scarred arms. I wince and force back the cry of pain lodged in my throat, or is that bile? I struggle futilely. This scene is familiar, like the start of my essay. The difference was it was my best friend making me pray for suffocation. He punches me a few times, spitting mad. Pain well up in my eye and my cheek. I can feel the familiar blood running from my nose and my lip stings like it's split.

How did we get here? Was it so long ago that we were brothers and would take a bullet for the other? That I demonstrated I would take a bullet for him? Vietnam seems like just yesterday, but I know it's been months. Almost a year ago in fact. My birthday was coming up soon again. Where did the time go? Have we been so focused on getting high that we didn't even notice the year slipping through our fingers?

I'm sick of fighting. I stop struggling and force myself to just take the beating. If this is what would help him, then so be it. I'll take the pain. Hell, I'll even let him kill me if it'll get him to just wake up for a second. Confusion lights up in his eyes and he stares at me distrustfully, like it's a trick. His hand lowers just barely as he tries to figure me out. I close my eyes and let him figure it out on his own.

BANG!

My eyes fly open and I look towards the door that's slammed in. Two-Bit is standing in the doorway looking on in horror. His face pales, his mouth flops, his eyes widen, and his feet stop. He sputters for a few moments like a car that can't start. His lips drawn into a firm line and his eyes harden. I've never seen him so angry.

Steve lowers his arm finally and gets off me. He doesn't give a hand up. I push myself up on my elbows and look at Two-Bit. There's no getting out of this so I don't say anything. Steve seems to feel the same way because he has his fiery eyes downcast and his mouth shut.

Two-Bit yells, "What the HELL is going on?!" Again, it's pretty self-explanatory so I don't say anything. "You two are buddies! Buddies don't go waling on each other, and especially not you two! Jesus Christ, you might as well be brothers!"

Steve rolls his shoulders and scoffs arrogantly, "Not anymore."

Two-Bit's eyes widen slightly again. My attention goes to Steve as I take in the gravity of what he just said. He couldn't mean it, right? Steve stares hard at me as I beseech his aggressively indifferent form. So he really was gone...

I pick myself up stiffly using the coffee table that's by my head. I don't look at him, instead choosing to keep my eyes to the floor. I wave Two-Bit's helping hand away when he offers it. I sway slightly on my feet and keep my shoulders slumped. I put a hand up to my lip and it comes away bloody. It's a reminder of how wrong the world is. I turn towards Steve's direction and say quietly, "Well if that's how you feel, I'm gone. Enjoy the apartment, Randle."

"Ponyboy," Two-Bit starts, concerned. I brush past him and go down the hallway. From my room I grab my Army duffel, a change of clothes, and some cash I found in my dresser. I go across the way to the bathroom and stuff my bag of dope in my jacket pocket. I can't imagine needing more so then I join the living room again and shoulder the bag.

Two-Bit looks scared now. He can't stop me and he knows it. He also knows that I don't have a place to go and I'm not going to be shacking up with any of the rest of the gang. "Ponyboy, don't do this, man. Where are you gonna go, huh? Just come back to the house with me for a bit so we can figure this out."

I shrug. "I'll catch you later, Two-Bit. I'm out of here."

He tries to stop me and follows my brisk pace for almost two blocks before he gives up. Thanks to that fix earlier, I've got some endurance back. That's something Two-Bit's never had. I wonder the streets of Tulsa looking for a place to hole up. It's not ideal, but I've got nowhere else to go. I can't drag the others down to my level so I can't go to them and I can't seem to shake it so I'm stuck out here.

The shadows grow longer and creep up the buildings as if to swallow the city whole. I've never noticed that before. There are a lot of things I've never noticed before, apparently. I find a grungy alley just as the sun sinks below the horizon. The trash filled street plunges into darkness. I feel my way to the end of the alley, only bumping the trash bins once. I sit down on the hard cement and put the brick wall against my back. I keep the duffel on and lay down, using my hand as a pillow. Then I stare down the alley, looking for trouble. It's gonna be a long night.

**Poor Pony and Steve. Thoughts? Please Review! :)**


	18. Chapter 18

So This Is War

Chapter Eighteen

**Just a short filler chapter from Pony.**

Sleep is a fleeting dream. I'm tired, but every time I close my eyes I see Steve's ablaze with hostility. Also, I hurt. My eye is tender and partially swollen. My knuckles are bruised and flecked with our blood. Both of my cheeks feel bruised, but only moderately pained. My arms hurt as well as my torso. Every now and then my lip breaks open to trickle blood. At least my nose stopped bleeding pretty quick.

I don't have any troubles getting up once the sky beings to lighten with the coming dawn. It's miserably early, but that doesn't bother me as much. I use to dread mornings, but the Army and the drugs helped fix that. Now it's just another time. My lack of sleep only made it feel like the same day dragging on endlessly.

I stumble around the rundown part of Tulsa for a few hours. The sun comes up, an infant in the east. I'm the only one on the streets at this hour, not that this section is ever busy. I come to the invisible border where the old fades into the real city. I hesitate, but can't come up a reason not to and keep walking. I've never felt more out of place in my own city, more lost-homeless.

I walk past the waking city streets, beginning to cluster with cars of all classes. I wander aimlessly, just for something to do. Normally, I'd be getting high, but if I'm gonna be living in the streets I need to save it. No money, no job, no place to live, and no friends all adds up to being hard up for dope. I look up again and see that I'm in my old neighborhood, right in front of Steve's old house.

Steve's car is parked in the driveway and there's no sign of his old man. He must have just got here because he isn't even in the house yet. He's by the window, looking like he's trying to break in. He feels eyes on him and quickly spins around. Relief spreads over his face and a sheepish grin washes over him. He looks like he doesn't remember a thing, and probably doesn't. I don't say anything, but stay rooted to the sidewalk, waiting for a sign from him that we were still like brothers.

He waves me over briskly, like when we were on runs in 'Nam. I jog across the overgrown lawn keeping low to the ground. Suddenly it felt like we were being sneaky partners in crime again, or buddies in war. I come up alongside him and look around us. The neighborhood is mostly still asleep and the others were too busy with their own routine to notice us.

Steve whispers, still grinning, "You forgot to pay rent so it looks like we're both out on our asses, Pony. I got the greatest news though: My dad got busted so the house is ours as soon as we can get in. C'mon, give me a boost. I think my bedroom window is unlocked."

I blink at him. Talk about a split-personality! Less than twenty-four hours ago he was contemplating killing me and now we're brothers again? I shrug and say, "I got a better idea. Follow me."

We keep close to the ground and hustle around to the back of the house. If we were gonna break in we might as well try not getting caught. We stop in front of the kitchen door and he smacks me on the back when he gets my idea. He slips out of his jacket and hands it to me. I wrap it around my elbow as a cushion. He grins evilly as I wind my arm back. The glass spiderwebs under the first blow. I slam my elbow into the glass again and it shatters, raining glass on the inside of the sill. I reach in with a groping hand and unlock the door. I hand back the jacket which he immediately slides back on, with barely a shake to check for glass. His arms weren't half as bad as mine, but the track marks were still noticeable.

We go inside and close the door behind us. The neighbors didn't seem to suspect anything, but in a neighborhood like this that didn't mean much. I spy the broom in the kitchen pantry and sweep up the glass. Steve goes right to making himself at home-in his home. It is sad how hard he's trying to make himself comfortable in a place that should be a safe haven. He cracks open the fridge as I finish dumping the glass in the trash bin. He pulls out a beer and offers me one. I gratefully accept and chug down the bitter drink to sooth my parched mouth. I don't remember the last time I drank something. Did I even have a glass of water yesterday?

My beer bottle breaks in the glass graveyard when I toss it. Steve's sails in just moments later. We walk in the short hallway that spills out into the rest of the house. He takes point and we clear the rooms of any bodies. Apparently the rumors were true because no one is home. His dad's room is a pigsty with clothes and beer bottles littering every surface. I close the door on the ugly scene. We move on to the next room, Steve's. It's a polar opposite version. Everything looks perfectly preserved the way Steve would have left it. Some old clothes are draped over the furniture and the bed is sloppily made, but a fine layer of dust has settled. His stuff wasn't piled in the closet or tossed out. Maybe his dad didn't hate him as much as he thought.

I glance over at Steve who surveys the room intently, looking for any fault. Finding none, his jaw clenches tightly and his eyes steel. He didn't want to believe that his dad cared about him. He wanted him to just forget he had a son. Steve said he was kicked out once and for all, but maybe not this time. Would a man preserve a whole room if he wanted its occupant gone?

Steve slams the door shut behind him and we go downstairs to the main level. It's a small house. Two bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper level, then a kitchen, dining room, and living room on the main level. It didn't make much sense for it to be a two-story, but the main floor was spacious. I can't stay here much longer.

He gets out the bag from his pocket. It's a different powder this time. One I'm more familiar with. He drags the end table around to rest in front of him and pours a small pile on the smooth surface. He takes out a dollar bill from his wallet and dishes out a line. I hear more than see him snort the hit. My eyes rolls back in my head in envy. I blink. Steve shakes his head clear and offers me the bill. I shrug and don't question it. When's the next time I'm gonna get offered a free dose? I drag the powder out into a thicker line. I'm looking for more than just a pick-me-up right now.

I snort the powder and it hits me like a brick wall. I jump up from the table like a monkey from a box and pace the room in short, brisk circles. Man, what a rush! The edges of my vision shimmer and blur and my blood rushes through my veins. If I look close enough, I can almost see it. I go over to the wall and put my face up against it for a closer look. I can see every imperfection and feel every grain in the plaster. I run my hand over it, the bumps rough under my smooth hand.

A light catches the corner of my eyes and I jump up. There's a blemish in the glass. The sun was at just the right angle to catch it and cast a rainbow in the floating dust. They sparkle and dance as they hang suspended in the air. Carefully, as if they were a glass menagerie, I reach up and try to grab one. My hand stirs them and sends them all directions in a flurry of twinkling lights. It's beautiful.

Time distorts again and I loose track. At some point I must have come back and slid down the wall because when I come to again, that's where I'm sitting. The sun is just dipping below the horizon. Steve is laying on the couch grabbing at the air. I don't see anything. He must be caught up in his own delusions. Again I wonder at how different he was on this drug than on yesterday's.

"Hey, Steve?" I test.

He looks up lazily. "Yeah?"

I bite my lip, unsure if I should continue. "Do you remember yesterday?" The marks on his face would say hell yes, but his behavior dictates every one. His eye, left cheek, and jaw are bruised. He didn't get it near as bad as me, but surely it's still noticeable for him.

His eyes harden slightly, defensive. "Ah hell, Ponyboy, why bring up a thing like that? What, you want an apology or something? I was right, you know."

"Right about killing me or right about it all being my fault?"

Steve stares me in the eyes. His are growing dark, warning me to back off. "You know what I mean. Now stop being such a goddamn pussy and get over it or get out."

"That's how it is now?"

"That's how it is."

I look away and shake my head. Is it so wrong to just want things to go back to normal? I scoot up the wall to a standing position. My body still felt light as a feather. I straighten my jacket and tighten my shoulders. I'm not gonna be taken off guard like last night, even if I'm just as unable to fight back. I turn around and wave over my shoulder. I take a couple steps towards the door when he chuckles darkly.

He taunts, "That's right, Pony, just run away. That's always been your answer, right? Just runaway whenever things get tough, like you did with Bob, like you did in 'Nam. Because when you don't, you screw everything up. Both times you got shot, you were trying to be the hero. Greasers weren't born to be heroes."

I shake my head again, in pity. This shade of Steve is hopeless and I feel sorry for him. I look at him one last time and say, "You're right, Steve. We don't get to be heroes, but we aren't the villains either. See yah 'round." Then I turn and walk out.

As I shuffle down the darkening streets, I wonder where I'm going. Everything here looks familiar. Oh yeah, I'm in my neighborhood. Maybe my brothers will be there and we can catch up. Wait... A nervous thought begins to gnaw at me as I'm walking home. Wasn't I supposed to do something today? Something important?

**See? I can make it short sometimes lol! Reviews are always appreciated, even though there isn't much to say here. What's going to happen next though?**


	19. Chapter 19

So This Is War

Chapter Nineteen

**Things are taking another turn for the worse. Brace yourselves! This is gonna be told from Darry's POV. **

Darry's POV

I hang up the phone and briskly stand up from my armchair. Lacey is waiting patiently for me to collect myself. So many emotions swirl in my mind that I can't find the words to express them. I can't even believe it...

"Darry, what's wrong?" she asks quietly. Ash is asleep in his room, Soda's old room.

I look up just as the front door creaks open. I whip my head around, expecting to see Two-Bit. A disheveled Ponyboy enters. My jaw goes slack from shock. My brother looks worse than Two-Bit described. His face is bruised, his clothes stained, and his hair is a grimy mess. His eyes are mostly dull, but a bitter and dejected light burns in them. I haven't seen him in awhile, but he looks worse than ever.

"Ponyboy?" I say numbly. The shock begins to fade and I don't continue. I close my mouth and remember the phone call. "We gotta get to the hospital, Pony."

Lacey jumps behind me, startled out of her own shock. Her voice shrill, she repeats, "Hospital? Darry what's going on?"

I shake my head and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I don't know yet. Soda called and told me his wife's in the hospital. I'll call when I have more, okay?"

She nods, fear wrinkling her forehead. I don't have the time to smooth back her hair or take away her worries like I want. I turn back around and face my brother. He looks just as scared, if not even more. She is nervous, but he's jumpy. I don't have anything to say to him just now. I brush passed him and we go out to the truck. He hops in the bruised passenger side while I climb in behind the wheel. I start it up and we peel off into the night.

He turns toward me and asks, "He didn't say what was wrong or what happened?"

I clench my teeth. "Actually he did. You forget something today, Ponyboy?"

His face pales instantly as it dawns on him. He stutters, "Shit. Is-I mean, is she okay? Do we know anything?"

I shake my head. Soda didn't say anything about her condition, but it didn't sound too good. "How could you forget, Ponyboy?"

"I didn't-"

"What, you didn't think? Didn't use your goddamn head?"

He buries his head in his hands. He mumbles out miserably, "What am I gonna tell Soda?"

"The truth." He clasps his hands together like one in prayer. I don't say anything for the rest of the trip. There's plenty I want to say, Soda would have enough to say for both of us I'm sure.

We get there in under fifteen minutes. The only time I drive fast is to the hospital. I'm worried about Soda's wife. She's a sweet girl and pregnant. Soda loves her more than anything. I can't help but worry about Ponyboy too though. He'd better have a real excuse or Soda's gonna tear him a new one. I'll be surprised if he doesn't try to actually hit him. As it is, _I_ want to.

I open the waiting room door and my youngest brother trails sullenly behind me. He can't stop fidgeting and he won't look up. He doesn't have to. Soda, who was pacing the room, spots us almost as soon as my foot hits the linoleum floor. He strides toward us, hugging me tight like he didn't even see Pony behind me. Maybe he didn't yet. He lets go and pulls back. Then he sees our little brother.

Pony pleads, "Sodapop, I'm so sorry-"

Soda, completely enraged, yells, "Where the hell were you, Ponyboy?! I ask you for one goddamn favor and you can't even do that? I asked you to pick her up- just pick her up from the goddamn library. What a shock I got when the fucking hospital calls me at work and tells me she's here and she was attacked while walking home! Where the fuck were you?!"

I stay silent. This is between them, although I would also like to know why our brother was being so selfish. Pony tries again, "I'm sorry, I just-"

A doctor cuts him off this time. "Family of Mrs. Curtis?" Goosebumps raise on my arms when I think of who the last Mrs. Curtis was. There hasn't been a woman in the family since Mom died. It still hurts whenever I think of it. We all walk over though, the fight on hold. "Mr. Curtis and family, I presume?"

Sodapop shakes the man's hand. "Yes, sir. How's my wife?"

The man sighs and motions to some seats. "Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" We stay standing. He continues, "Alright then. Well, I've got some good news and some bad. We expect your wife to make a full recovery. She's got a few scrapes and bruises, a sprained wrist, and a couple bruised ribs. However, I'm sorry to say that she sustained some harsh blows to the abdomen..."

We absorb the information and I inhale sharply. Pony walks a few feet away to brace himself against the wall. Sodapop, in denial, asks, "Doc, what does that mean?"

"It means that your wife has lost the baby. I'm sorry, son," he breaks as gently as he can. He pats Soda's arm and I lay a hand on his shoulder. I can feel him shudder as he swallows hard. He blinks away tears and clears his throat.

Quieter and more serious than I've ever heard, he says, "When can I see her?"

"You can see her now if you like. She'll need to stay overnight for observation, but she should be good to go home tomorrow. Again, I'm terribly sorry for your loss." He bows his head in respect and leaves us to our grief after giving us the room number.

Soda stands like a deer in headlights. I can't imagine how this must feel for him. He was so excited to be a father. He was ready. Now that's been taken from him, from them both. I just stand there with him to let him know I'm here. There's nothing I can say that will take his pain away or express my sympathy. Ponyboy walks over which snaps him out of it.

Sodapop jerks away and glares with dead eyes at him. The blame was clear. "I can't, Pony. Just stay away from us." He walks down the brightly lit hall and disappears from sight. I don't blame him.

I don't know what to say, again. I've never been struck so speechless. This time it actually was his fault, but how can I put even more guilt on the shoulders of one who already shoulders the world? "Ponyboy... Go find Two-Bit and tell him what happened. I'm gonna stay here with Soda for awhile. Please stay at the house tonight. He's gonna want to talk to again when he's clearer."

He nods silently. His shoulders are slumped exactly like one carrying a huge weight. He turns and leaves without another word which is fine with me considering I had nothing left to say either. What he did was unforgivable. I loved him, but he made a shitty move. I shake my head as the glass door gently closes behind him. What am I gonna do with my brothers?

I go down the hallway and find the elevator. She's on the second floor. When I come to the room, I pause in the doorway. She's unconscious in the bed, looking frail and sick. Soda has his head on the bed beside her and his shoulders are shaking with harsh sobs. Hopefully the doctors explained everything to her because he can't possibly go through tell her himself. No man should have to.

I pull up one of the plastic chairs from the corner of the room and help him into it. His teary eyes look up at me, pained. I offer him a sad smile. Everything would eventually be okay, but for now not so much. Why did all the bad things happen to good people? I get another chair and bring it alongside him, offering what comfort I could.

We sit in silence, waiting. A couple hours later she wakes up, dazed. I stand and say my goodbyes. They need to be alone for a little while. I can already see the tears forming in the eyes looking at my brother's rigid face. He nods at me. I leave.

On the drive back to the house, I see Steve walking on the sidewalk. I pull over and let him jump in. He looks fine for having been a fight not too long ago. "Hey Steve. You hear about what happened?"

He grins over at me, failing to detect the gravity in my voice. He slurs, "Hey Darry. How you been, man?"

I sniff in his direction, no booze. His eyes are bright despite the dark circles. If it was lighter out, I'm sure they would be tinged red as well. Any doubts about the sincerity of his drug charge wash away. My eyes lift to the sky. Why me? Why our gang?

For the moment I forget about Soda. I keep my voice clipped and question, "Steve, how long you been using?"

He looks up in surprise. I can see the defense building in his eyes, but when he looks at my hard face he knows it's useless. The grin takes on an evil glint. His face glows with mischief. I resist the urge to smack him and he finally answers, "Oh ever since Ponyboy started probably."

A light begins to dawn on me. A terrible light unfit to be true. My hand snatches his collar and drags him closer. I growl in his face, "What the hell were you thinking, Steve? Introducing Ponyboy to drugs?!" How could I not see the signs? They were everywhere and I completely overlooked them, we all did. We loved them so much that we couldn't bear to even think such a thing. Ponyboy was our golden boy. He was innocent, smart, and young. And Steve- He was just as brilliant although in different ways. He looked out for the gang, for Pony. He would never put any of us in harms way. It was that damn war that took it all away from them!

Steve's sly smile grows until I'm worried it may actually split his face. A face that I'm more than tempted to punch right not, I might add. He chuckles, insane, "Try the other way 'round, Dar. It was 'Saint Ponyboy' that got me hooked."

"No!" I slam my fist into his jaw. How could he lie to me? Ponyboy would never do that. But then again, neither would Steve...

"Believe it Superman. I didn't and look where that got me."

"So you knew and you didn't do anything. Why the fuck didn't you stop him Steve?"

"I tried! He presented me with a case I couldn't argue with. So out of guilt, I gave his way a try. I never meant to get in so deep."

Inhale...Exhale... Deep breaths... This can't be happening. My brother would never do drugs. It makes sense though. All the disappearances, the off behavior, the low inhibitions, the way he looked. They were both strung out. I never should have overlooked the marijuana incident. I try to form the words, "W-what've y'all been using?" I need to know so I can stop it.

He chuckles again, more in fond memory than spite. "Man, whatever we can get. You mean his drug of choice though right? He's a mainlining heroin junkie, big brother. And me, well, I prefer the lighter side of PCP. It all comes down to what's around though."

No, no, no, no. Not my brother... Not Pony... Not Steve... How could we not have noticed them killing themselves? Better question: How could they be so stupid as to start this shit up? This ends now. I put the truck in gear and drive on to the house. I don't know where Pony is, but I hope he can still follow orders because if he isn't home in an hour I'm coming after him. I'm not letting the people I love get away with suicide.

I pull in the driveway and march up the steps. I turn around when the passenger door slams shut. Steve bolts down the street in a flash. There's no way I'm gonna be able to catch him. Dammit! When did he get so quick? When his beloved dope became in jeopardy? I growl in frustration and tear open the door. Lacey jumps up from the couch as if startled by a burglar.

One look at my face and she knows something is terribly wrong. "How is she?"

I close my eyes and count to ten. Now I've forgotten about Soda's wife. This is the single worst day of my life. Worse than when my parents died, worse than when I hit Ponyboy, worse than fighting in 'Nam. I answer softly, "She'll be okay, but she lost the baby. Is Pony here?"

She gasps, putting a hand up to her mouth. "How awful! How's Soda taking it?"

"He's taking it pretty hard. Now, is Pony here?" I ask again, more firmly. Soda's issue is one that will resolve itself, but Pony's is not.

Lacey frowns. "No. I thought he left with you."

She is so far out of the loop. I sum up everything that's been going on for the last few hours. I tell her about what happened from the library to now. When I finish, she's speechless. "I-We have to do something about this."

I nod. "I know. Do you think you and Ash could stay with your mother for a few days? Pony's gotta get clean and I don't want you two around for that."

She nods animatedly, "Of course, Darry! Just worry about him getting better. I'll take care of the Soda situation."

I smile lightly at her. I lean forward and give her a gentle kiss on her soft lips. "What would I ever do without you?"

**Ahh! Can it be done? Sorry this chapter was so sad! **


	20. Chapter 20

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty

**Here we go again! I'm so excited to finally have the time to write! Here's some from Soda. **

Soda's POV

I help my wife out of the car and we make our way to the apartment. Thank god the elevator is in service because she can't get around too well yet. The doctor released her this afternoon, but it didn't make much difference because I never left her side. I don't think I'll ever really leave her side again.

She's exhausted after the long walk so I tuck her in bed. She gives a wane smile before turning over and falling fast asleep. I understand that she wants to be alone to wrap her mind around our loss, but I can't bring myself to move for several minutes. Sitting on the edge of the bed I just stare at her, forlorn. I miss our baby so much and can't even begin to imagine how much worse she must feel. She was the one carrying him/her. It wasn't her fault though. It was those sonsofbitches that took that away- and my brother.

I stand up roughly when that thought enters my mind. I don't want her sleeping form to pick up on my negative energy so I leave the room, closing the door softly behind me. I want to hit something solid, but the best I can do is a couch pillow. There was nothing worse than your own brother being responsible for hurting the one you loved. No greater betrayal. As hard as I try, I can't hold him responsible though. I want to because that would be the easy thing to do, but deep down I know that there's more to the story. My little brother wasn't the kind of guy to do that sort of thing. It also wasn't really his fault. No one could have known what was gonna happen if she walked home alone.

I wonder where Ponyboy is now. Two-Bit told us yesterday morning that he bailed and shortly after the eviction came in that booted Steve out too. My best buddy hasn't been by to see me and I can't help but worry. I should have been there the moment he got out. He should have written me, any of us, at least once. Instead the only one in the loop was my younger brother and now even that bond seems to be obliterated. They are both islands drifting away from everyone and everything. Something isn't right with them, and I feel like it's right under my nose.

I dial the house. Ring... Ring... Darry answers quickly, "Hello? Two-Bit?" He sounds alert, almost panicked.

"No, it's Soda. We just got back home from the hospital. She's asleep right now. What's going on? Is Two-Bit okay?"

My big brother pauses, hesitant. "Well that's real good, Soda. I hope she feels better soon. And, uh, everything's real fine here. Two-Bit's fine." He was hiding something, and not very well. My nerves are already frayed from the hospital. I can't take much more bad news, but I'm not in the mood to decipher anything either.

I sigh and gripe the phone tighter, "Darry, what is it? Just tell me."

"Two-Bit's out looking for Ponyboy. I'm not telling you anymore over the phone so if you want, I'll send Lacey over."That doesn't sound good.

"Is he okay?" I may be mad at him, but I would never want anything bad to happen to him. He'll always be my little brother.

Darry sighs agitatedly, "I-I can't tell you over the phone. I got it under control though. You do what you gotta do."

That made up my mind pretty fast. "I'll be there soon then. Could you send Lacey over for me?"

"Yeah, sure. See you soon then."

"Alright, bye." I hang up the phone and close my eyes for a moment. This day truly can't worse. I sigh and brace myself for whatever was coming. I leave a note for my wife and leave it on the bedside table. Then I grab up my jacket and go downstairs to the car.

I'm at the house in less than ten minutes. I jog up the steps and throw open the door. Darry is still pacing by the phone. He seems even more stressed than I pictured. I ask him what's wrong with Pony.

Darry doesn't look like he knows where to start. Panic begins to boil in me. I've never seen him this edgy. He tells me, "I saw Steve last night..."

"How was he?"

"He, uh, wasn't too good- said some stuff that included Ponyboy."

I'm tired of the guessing game. "Darry, just tell me. It can't possibly be that bad."

He growls, "Hell yeah it is! Ponyboy and Steve have been using for months!"

My jaw drops. I check my ears and find them perfectly clear, but I can't have heard that. "Using what?"

He looks at me like I'm an idiot, which I know I sound like. I won't believe until it's crystal clear. "Drugs, Sodapop. They've been doing drugs. And not just mild stuff either, but seriously heavy shit."

Something in me splinters. Rage starts to course through my veins and I want to accuse him of being a liar, Steve too. One look at his hard and agonized face reins it in. This is really happening. This is reality. This is my own personal hell.

He softens up as he sees my world crumbling around me. I all but collapse on the couch beside me and bury my head in my hands. He comes closer and puts his hand on my shoulder, its familiar resting place of late. I feel tears well in my eyes as I realize that I never even noticed them fading away. I choke back the sobs.

A few moments later, Two-Bit is dragging Pony in by the collar of his jacket. He's not the only one to come in either. T-Bone is right behind them, herding Pony like a sheep. I haven't seen him in months, but he looks just as I remember, unlike my brother. Pony is already sweating bullets. His eyes are wide and bright with panic. He knows we know by now. Two-Bit doesn't look near as disturbed as Darry and I.

Darry is a mess of frustration and hurt. "Where'd you find him, Two-Bit?"

"Out on the streets by some crack house on the other side of town," he answers glumly.

We send T-Bone with Pony to his old room and let him settle in. The door stays open. We go back out to the living to plan ahead. I can't stay here long because of my wife, but there's no way I'm leaving him behind. That's just what I need; three people to make amends with now.

Two-Bit goes on as if carrying on a conversation from earlier, "I'm sorry, Dar. If I'd known he wasn't getting clean I would have told you. I thought he was doing good though."

We narrow our eyes at him and I spit out, this being completely new to me, "You knew and you didn't think to mention it? Did you know about Steve too?"

He shakes his head vigoursly, "No. If I'd known about Steve I never would have left the two of them alone. I found out last week and he was doing good, trying to keep off it. Then Steve got back and derailed him. I didn't know he was using until Darry called and told me to round up Pony. I can't believe Steve made Pony pick up the needle, but hell I can't picture it being any other way either."

The anger dies out in Darry's eyes and even I soften up. Darry looks half choked up himself and mumbles, "Actually it was Pony first."

Two-Bit lifts his eyes from the wall and blindly lets it absorb. It's a lot to take in, almost too much. He clears his throat and says, "This is bullshit. How the hell did we let this happen?"

I shake my head. From the corner of my eye I think I see Darry doing something similar. The truth is, no one knows. This is something we never saw coming. We should have, but we were so blinded by our love that we were willing to overlook all of the signs. "It's all fucked up," I mumble miserably. They bow their heads in silent agreement.

A staccato thump resonates from the back of the house and we jump to our feet, racing to the room. Ponyboy jumps, pulling his fist away from the dented plaster. Fear blazes in his eyes like a wild horse. He runs a hand through his hair and whispers brokenly, "No, no I can't. I can't go through this again."

I throw my arms around his trembling frame and weave my fingers through his matted hair. Darry joins in and pulls Two-Bit with him. Together we surround him, making him understand that we care. He breaks down sobbing and I have to support him to keep him from falling to the floor. Barely intelligible, he gasps, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I flinch at the woeful agony in his voice. I glance at my big brother for support because he's usually the one with the answers, but silent tears are tracking down his own face. This is on me to find something to say, anything. All I can do is ask, "Why, Pony? I think I can understand why you did it, but why did you drag Steve down with you?" Two-Bit scowls at me, afraid of putting even an ounce more of blame on him. To be honest, I'm afraid that anything will break him down completely.

Pony folds in on himself and hides his face against his knees. "I don't know... I... I was high."

It's useless, but before I can stop myself I bite out, "Oh you were high, huh? Ruining your own life with that shit just wasn't enough so you had to bring your buddy along for the ride?"

Darry smacks me across the back of the head and Two-Bit takes over. He murmurs what we should have in the first place. "It's gonna be okay, Pony. We got through this once and we'll do it again. Everyone's here now." If anything that makes him cry harder. I can't take it anymore. I stand up and leave the room.

Five minutes later the tortured cries cease. Darry comes out and drops like a lead weight in his armchair. He looks like I feel-old. We don't say anything, but I'm sure we're both thinking about how messed up our lives are. We sit in silence, staring off in deep thought.

Sometime later, maybe a half hour or so, Two-Bit enters the room with a clenched jaw. "So, looks like Pony never made it to that crack house this morning. He's coming down faster than I thought. I went through this with him before so trust me when I say, it ain't gonna be quick or easy. If you want out, I suggest you bail now." We don't move. "Don't say I didn't warn you. I give it about an hour before things really start lighting up. T's on watch."

He wasn't kidding. T-Bone starts whining and we investigate. Ponyboy quietly writhes on the bed, trying to stretch out some light muscle cramps and breathing heavy like before a race. We sit on the floor by the bed. Two-Bit's jaw is clamped tight and his eyes are stone. He knows it's gonna get worse.

When Ponyboy starts whining, I can't take it. Even T-Bone is pacing the room and whimpering. Pony's audible pain is like a knife to the gut. I go back out to the sofa and sit rocking with my head tucked down and my hands folded on the back of my neck. First my wife and now my brother and best friend.

Eventually Pony starts screaming as the withdrawal tries to break him. I hear a scuffle as they try to restrain him and I break first. I run out the door and fly down the steps, not stopping at the gate. I keep sprinting down the street like as if the devil were on my heels. Far away isn't far enough. You can't run from the knowledge that haunts you.

I pass Two-Bit's house, which is no short distance, and loop back around. On the way, I make out a mysterious figure walking out of the lot. The sun silhouettes him so I can just barely see him. Like I said, you can't outrun your inner demons. I shift my trajectory and dive straight for him, tackling him to the pavement. Startled, he punches me low in the gut. I give it right back. For whatever reason, he doesn't take the time to notice me and keeps fighting. I have more control than I give myself credit for and tear myself off of him.

I point an accusing finger down at him from where he lay motionless, in shock. "How could you be so stupid?!"

He blinks, finally recognizing me. "Sodapop? What the hell, man?"

I pace back a few steps, energy flowing within me mixing with rage. I growl, "You know what the fuck I'm talking about. Drugs, Steve."

He glowers up at me and I swear there's a hint of shame. Two years ago he never would have hid anything from me, but certainly nothing this big. Bluntly he retorts, "Look, your big brother doesn't know shit about me and neither do you. You want answers, talk to your brother."

That hits me harder than any hit ever could and I just stand there, stunned. He takes the moment to get up and shove passed me. I don't follow. The dark look in his eyes and the harsh tone in his voice tell me that he isn't the Steve I know. He may be gone for good.

Once I thaw out, I go back to the house. Darry is falling asleep in his chair, but his eyelids shoot up when he hears the door close behind me. A layer of stress falls from his face and he rolls his shoulders. I feel a twinge of guilt for making him worry about me too. I explain as best I can, "I had to step out for a bit." He nods and I know I'm forgiven. He even looks pleased, almost jealous. The screams have subsided which is nice, but I hear Two-Bit's voice seep through the walls, too low for me to decipher. "Any change?"

Darry closes his eyes and settles back in his seat He murmurs, "He ain't screaming anymore, but Two-Bit says it's far from over. He'll be okay, Soda. Don't worry. Go home if you need to."

He's right. I do need to go home soon and explain things, or be there to comfort my wife. I miss having at least one place where I could escape from the chaos of life. I used to be able to go to a friend's house or things would be good at home. This feels like being back in Vietnam, not something I care to remember even on the worst of days. Back there, I had no place of solace and everyday I had to go on without any way out. Sometimes things were good and sometimes they were bad, but there was no way to avoid whichever it happened to be.

Darry falls into a light sleep and I continue getting lost in thought. Three out of my five loved ones are down. It seems like the more you think things are coming together, the more you realize they're falling apart. Maybe fate just felt it fit to just rain on the Curtis family from time to time, a horrendous monsoon to rival the jungles'. Anyone nearby got caught in it too.

Two-Bit shuffles out and I look up. The shadows are longer. Dusk will be setting soon. He looks exhausted, both physically and mentally. He says quietly, "He's passed out for now. I'm gonna swing by my place and pick up some stuff, then I'll be right back. I've got T standing guard. You hear anything suspicious, check it out. Pony ain't right in the head at present. He'll do just about anything for a fix."

I nod, taking in my instructions. I won't let him down, or Two-Bit. The house settles after his departure and I check in on my brother. Asleep, he looks sick. He's sweating something fierce, but shivering under the sheet at the same time. His eyes are black and his face is pale. He used to look younger when he was out, but not anymore.

I quietly slip out of the room, nodding at T-Bone. I go into the bathroom and close the door with a soft click. Then I sit on the edge of the tub and let it pour out of me. I fit my fist into my mouth to muffle the sobs and just let them come. It's what my anger has been holding back all day. I cry for my baby, my brother, my best friend, my wife, my fallen comrades, Darry, Two-Bit, T-Bone, and anyone else I can think of that deserves a tear. Everyone has had their share, but this new weight so much that it brought it all down on me like a sledge hammer. I wonder if this is what Pony felt when he picked up the needle, but I'm not nearly that bad off. Now I've seen what that shit actually does to you, turning you into a ghost, and I can feel my support group around me even when they're not here.

They subside and I wipe my face with a cool washcloth. My eyes are puffy and red. It's a wonder how the red from tears is so different from the red caused by a high. Maybe eyes truly are a window into one's soul and you can see the pure or evil cause. Whatever the reason, it's eerily obvious how different they are.

I go back out and check the room again. The bed is empty, the sheets a tangled mess on the floor. Goddammit! T-Bone is whining and whimpering under the window, hopping up on the ledge to look out. I look, but I don't see him. He's already gone. "Darry!" I yell, panicking. Holy hell, he's actually gone! He's gonna end up killing himself if we can't catch him soon. I've heard that some drug addicts, after failing to dry out get so desperate that they OD when they find another their next hit. That can't be my brother!

I try apart the room, looking for a sign of where he may have gone. An open window only tells me one thing; out. I rummage through the barren drawers of his dresser and desk. The closet is full of his old stuff that Darry wouldn't throw out. The bedside table has a phone number hidden in it, but when I call it's been disconnected. My gut tells me it was his old dealer. I slam the phone down on the cradle, which finally wakes Darry.

"What's going on?" he asks, quickly on alert. I tell him and he curses loudly. We go back to the room and separate, looking for any clues. He flips up the mattress behind me and I check the desk again. His voice whispers, frightened, "Soda..." I whip around and look at what's been hiding under there. There are bags and bags of coke and at least two or three needles. How long have those been there?

"Jesus," I whisper, voice caught in my throat. Ponyboy, where are you?

**Ahh! Please review! Writing from Sodas perspective is difficult for me. How did I do? All feedback is appreciated! :)**


	21. Chapter 21

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-One

**Yay! I got Soda down pretty good! Well things are getting mighty tense, so why not switch back to Pony ? This starts just before Chapter Twenty, if it isn't obvious. I don't like switched verb tenses too much. How do we feel about all this switching around? **

Pony's POV

The misery drags on for what feels like an endless moment in time. The same moment tortures me again and again. At some point I fall asleep with Two-Bit sitting on the foot of the bed. I didn't get five minutes in before I was tossing and turning, uselessly trying to fade back into that back oblivion. Everything hurt. It wasn't bad enough now that I couldn't keep quiet, but just bad enough that I couldn't keep still either.

I wearily prop myself up on my elbows and survey the room. Two-Bit's gone, but the door is wide open. I hear Darry's light snoring from the front of the house which means he's asleep in his chair. A bout of nausea hits me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and force it back. When it passes, I slowly ease myself out of bed. I stumble down the hall using the wall for support to investigate my prison guards. T-Bone follows me, glued to my hip. Looks like he doesn't trust me anymore either.

Just as I suspected, Darry is passed out in the armchair. I ignore my stiff muscles and drape the couch blanket over him. It's my fault he's so stressed out. Everything else in his life is going perfectly. I sigh under my breath and look around the rest of the house. The only other room that's occupied is the bathroom. I hold my ear up to the door and hear Sodapop's muffled sobs that eat my core like acid. This is all because of me, of what I've been doing to cope. I've made everyone in my family cry today. Maybe there's one more thing I can do to make it right...

I crack open the window. T-Bone whines and paws at my legs. I can see it in his eyes, he doesn't want to rat me out but he'll bark if I put one foot out of the house. I get down on my knees and look him in the eyes. I whisper, "C'mon, T, work with me here. For old time's sake buddy?" He doesn't budge. What'd I expect? He's a dog!

I creep low to the floor and work my way to the kitchen. I had to stop twice to fight a cramp. I should not be starting this so soon! My last fix was... last night I think. Maybe early this morning. It didn't make sense for withdrawal to start up this afternoon. Unless... I'm worse off that I thought. The fact that I was almost to the point of shooting up in my neck wasn't a sign, but withdrawal kicking my ass less than twenty-four hours later sure as hell is a wake up call.

I get a piece of meat from the ice box and lure T-Bone back to the room. I hide it on the sill. I pet T and whisper to him that he's a good boy, which isn't a lie. It's like old times when he thought of me as a friend. He gladly accepted the affection, wagging his tail like a chopper waves its blades. I pale at the comparison that jumps in my head. He stand back up, patting his soft head. If only earning the trust of my brothers would be so easy. I toss the meat on the other side of the bed and he takes the bait. As soon as he tears after it, I hop up on the ledge and disappear into the night. This may be my only chance to set things right. My brothers won't ever let me out of their sights again.

Running isn't as easy as I remember. By the time I'm at the stop sign, I have to stop and empty my stomach in the street. Sweat runs down my back and drips from my face. My lungs burn and my muscles tighten, already starting to twinge. I spit to clear the bile and lean against the cool metal pole. It isn't nearly as cool as I hoped. I wrap my arms around myself, pulling my worn jacket tighter, to fight off the chills that accompany the perspiration. Was it this bad when Two-Bit tried drying me out? That wasn't even all that long ago, no more than a week. At least I think it's been a week, maybe longer, maybe less. I haven't been able to keep track of time in almost a year.

I heave myself off the pole to get some momentum and stumble down the street. I probably look drunk, but there is no mistaking the sheer misery with intoxication. My heart thumps erratically as I near the house. It's dark, but I know it's not empty. He's got nowhere else to be anymore either.

I shake my sweaty palms in the air, mentally preparing myself. I scratch my itchy skin, rub my nose, and procrastinate anyway I can. In fact it's something I have to do anyway. My nose is leaking slightly and my skin itches from within. All signs that tell me, I need a fix. Behind this door is my salvation, but do I really want it?

The question sets off a war within myself. The sane part says hell no, I need to get clean for my brothers, but the other half is screaming in time with my aching body that it's the only way to feel better. Both halves are right, but I can't have it both ways anymore. If I heal my pains, I loose my brothers and if I choose my brothers, the pain is only going to get worse before it gets better.

Scrubbing a weary hand down my face, I quickly rap on the door. There's no backing out now. I don't wait and charge in the door, slamming it fast behind me. I have to hold myself against the door and calm down. There's no way now. I've seen it. I can still smell it. My body lets out a horrendous ache for it, but I have to push it back. I have to, but I don't know if I can.

Steve is sitting on the edge of the sofa, cooking up with a candle on the coffee table. The smell scrambles my thoughts into hundreds of fragments that render me nearly speechless. What did I come here for again? Oh right... it wasn't to get high. Don't break down, don't break down.

I rub my slick palms on my jeans. My hands are shaking from the nervous energy humming through me. Steve is oblivious, transfixed by the ritual. Come on, Ponyboy, pull it together! Shit, it's not easy to think like this. I rip my eyes away from the table and stutter, "Uh, hey, Steve. Um, what, uh, what're you doing?"

He blinks and looks up, finally noticing me. He grins, "Oh hey Ponyboy. Say, you ain't looking so good. You here for a little something?"

My stomach answers by trying to tear out of my gut from the inside. I put a hand up to it and hiss a curse under my breath. I will not let it win this time. I wince and try to stay focused, "Uh, no. A-actually I'm here to, uh, talk to, to you."

"Hmm," he responds, only half paying attention as he prepares the needle.

Sweat pours down my face as I struggle to keep my eyes averted. I fidget like a hummingbird where I stand. "Umm," I stall, unable to think. From the corner of my eye I see him put the needle up to his arm. I dash over and slap it to the floor, much like Curly had to me that day. It rolls away harmlessly.

Steve rears up and shouts, "Ponyboy, goddammit! What the hell is the matter with you?"

I tremble inches away, not from fear of Steve but at the realization that I touched the needle. It was so close and now it was rolling away to heal the dust bunnies. I shudder, but come back to the present where Steve is toe to toe with me waiting for an answer or a fight. I smirk and bark out a bitter chuckle, "Everything."

His eyes narrow. "So what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

I wince at how dark his expression is, almost murderous. My best friend is a wraith because of me- of what I made him do. I didn't mean to though. I just didn't want to be alone. Now I'm more alone than ever and so is he. "I want you to get off this goddamn shit! You're fucking killing yourself, man! I don't even recognize you."

He rolls his eyes and leans back lazily. He asks, "What, did Two-Bit jump on your case again or something?"

I roll my shoulders and hastily wipe the sweat from my brow. "Worse-all our brothers. Soda cried when he heard what'd I'd done to you. You gotta come back with me, man. Even if I do it alone things won't ever be right."

The dangerous fire ignites in his eyes. He growls, "Don't you fucking guilt trip me, you little prick. You wanna get clean? Do it. Don't you dare try and act so high and mighty as to pull me from the sludge with you though. You ain't got the right."

"Steve, I've got the only right! I fucked you up, man! It's all my goddamn fault so let me do the right thing and help you!"

"Stop helping me, Pony! I didn't ask for it then, and I'm not asking for it now."

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I'm not leaving without you."

Something in him snaps-I can see it. His nostrils flare, his jaw clenches. Before I even know what's happening, he slugs me and I go down. I'm too weak to fight back, but I wouldn't even if I could. I'm dazed from the hit, but get up to my knee. He's not finished though. He hollers, while pressing my arm up behind my back, "I don't want to be _saved_, Pony. I don't need to be _saved._" He continues rambling, but I don't hear it. The pressure on my arm tightens like a snake, slow and painfully tight. I can't do anything but wince and bite my lip. Christ, that hurts! I whimper. He tightens again and screams in my ear, "So you can just take that fucking bullshit and shove it-"

_CRACK_!

My arm snaps from the intense pressure and I scream at the top of my lungs. He jumps off. I let out such a stream of curses that I impress even myself through the pain. _"Fuck!"_ I finally choke, through the gasping and the tears that threaten to spill. I cradle my arm, struggling not to pass out. I breath deeply, bowing my head down.

"Ponyboy? Jesus Christ, Pony, I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! I-I just lost it and... C'mon, let's get you to a hospital," Steve stutters with a strained voice. I look up and see him damn near tears himself. His eyes are wide with fright. He's sweaty and pale. Shame, guilt, pain, and compassion are written plainly on his face. These are the emotions I know. This is Steve.

He reaches a trembling hand down to help me up, but I wave him off, whispering, "I just need a minute." He nods, eyes still wide. I force back bile and see something glint under the couch I'm leaning on. I reach for it with my good hand and pull it out. It's the needle Steve dropped. He sees it and his breath shallows. I can tell he wants it, but he's restraining himself. His face turns slightly green and he looks disturbed, like the first time he caught me with a needle.

My resolve is shot to hell and back. The last thing I'm thinking about is how stupid it is. I shoot up before he can take it out of my hand. He made a grab for it, but it was too late. It's in my blood, making me feel warm and... better. A small smile spread on my face and my head lulls back. I can't hold it up anymore. From my slanted eyelids, I see him sigh agitated and worried at the same time. He brushes a hand through his greasy dark hair, like ink.

I laugh lightly as the feeling of ecstasy comes over me. Everything looks so beautiful. Steve hauls me up and practically drags me out to the car. He throws me as gently as he can into the passenger side. He jumps in behind the wheel and tears off into the night. The colors look so bright, even though the sky is dark out. I can't keep it to myself, "It's beautiful, Steve."

He sends me a strange look. "Uh, what is, buddy?"

"The colors," I sigh happily. The world shimmers in bright hues. Everything is so vibrant and distorted, like it's all connected. When you're awake it looks crisp, but when you're high is all kind of blurs together. Even my hand seems to glow.

I hear him mumbling to himself angrily, although occasionally he sends me a soft, concerned glance. Like with Dally, I can only pick out certain things. "I'm so sorry, kid. Things really got out of hand- with all of it, I mean. I'm done though. If this is what that shit is turning me into, then I don't want it anymore. Shit, I wouldn't have done it if I thought I was hurting anyone else. I just wanted to forget the guilt, man. All the fucking pain."

I roll my head over to look at him and slur, "I dig it, man. That's why I picked up the needle. And not just when you broke my arm, but the first time too. Th-that's why." My eyes slide to just slits and I nod. I don't think he says anything more, but I'm too out of it. Things finally feel right though, and not just because I found a fix. I found a way to bring back Steve too. I fixed my mistake. Maybe Soda won't cry anymore... Maybe, just maybe, things can go back to the way they were meant to be.

**Don't worry, it's not the end of the end! Thoughts? Crazy, right?! **


	22. Chapter 22

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-Two

**Thank you for the reviews! They make my day! This chapter may jump around so be warned. That's the trouble with multiple points of view. Here we go, the chapter we've all been waiting for!**

Steve's POV

The hospital isn't fun. I have to keep waking up Ponyboy so the doctors won't think he's too stoned. The story is he took a painkiller before we came here and he can't hold his drugs. I'm not sure they believe us considering all the strange looks we're getting from the ER staff. I answer all their questions and pretty soon we're led back.

I have to help Pony walk because he keeps trying to nod off. I whisper low in his ear, "If you can't talk coherently keep your mouth shut, you fucking idiot." It really was stupid of him to get high like that when he knew he'd be going to the hospital. Maybe that was his point, he wanted to either get caught or force me to take responsibility. If it was the latter, it worked. I'm doing everything I can to keep the fuzz off him.

The exam room is barely bigger than a closet. It reminds me of the rooms from the hospital in 'Nam. They look exactly the same. The doc has Pony sit on the table with his feet still on the floor. He tries to drop off again, but I kick his shin when the doctor's back is turned. He snaps his head up and blinks his blurry eyes with a dopey grin. This is hopeless. Any quack could see he's as high as a kite.

The doctor gently take Pony's arm and helps him shrug out of his jacket. Holy shit! I had no idea he was this bad! There's no way the man doesn't see the scars and tracks that completely litter his arm from his wrist to his t-shirt sleeve. I try to stay calm, but I can't cease the hammering in my chest. The doctor pretends not to see it and focuses on the wrong angle of Pony's swollen arm. He moves some of Pony's fingers and his wrist, asking if any of it hurts. At one of the movements he winces and whines, "C'mon cut it out, man." I wince at the slur in his voice and the pain written on his face. This is my fault.

The man settles the arm back down. He says, "Well son, it's broken, but a clean break. I'm gonna go ahead and set it for you without the x-rays so we can get you out of here quicker." I look up in surprise. I thought for sure we were gonna get busted! He must see the question in my eyes because he answers sadly, "I had a son in 'Nam... He died in an ambush despite all efforts made to save him."

I look again at Pony and see his tags hanging from his neck. He never took them off, neither of us did. I'm just so used to seeing them that they've become invisible. I've never thought of what others might see. For instance, this man sees a reminder of what may have happened to his son if he'd made it home. Another person might see one more reason to hate the war and the soldiers fighting in it. I see my best friend who's saved my ass too many times and who I'd willing die for. It's funny how such a small symbol can have so many life altering interpretations.

The quack thinks about offering him some more pain medication before he sets the arm, but one look at Pony nearly drooling on himself is enough of an answer. He warns us that it's probably going to hurt and pushes the bone back into place. Pony shrieks and stomps the ground like a little kid. Again, I wince. He calms back down and gives the doctor an evil glare that fades back into his glassy expression. The doctor casts him up and we let it dry. Then we're set free and I can't help but be glad. I hate hospitals, but waiting for someone to bust you while you're there makes it even worse.

I help him back into the car and he collapses in his seat. I make sure his arm is out of the way before closing the door and going around to my side. I gulp. Now the hard part comes- explaining everything to our brothers. Did they hate me for being so weak in the beginning? If not, would they hate me now for letting it get so out of control? I do.

I pull up to the house and turn the ignition key. The car sputters into silence. It's eery how the sight of my haven fills me with nerves. I drag Pony out of the car and he laughs at my struggle. He's not helping me out at all anymore. I force him to his feet and help him up to the door. Should I knock or just go in? I've never knocked before...

Knock, knock.

The door creeps open and I see Two-Bit. His eyes narrow when he see me, but then grow when he sees me holding up Ponyboy. He practically drags us both in by our shirt collars. Soda and Darry are on their feet in a second. Darry snatches Ponyboy from me. They catch sight of the white cast peeking out from under the jacket sleeve and if they weren't pissed before, they sure as hell are now. Darry sends me an enraged look. Soda punches me in the jaw. My head snaps to the side and I see red for a minute. When it clears my fist is raised back and I can feel my face set in that cynical mask of hate. I slowly relax. He doesn't though and looks pissed. I take him off guard and wrap my arms around him, hugging him despite the fact he wants to kick the shit out of me. He tenses just like I thought he would. I say quietly, "I'm so sorry, Soda."

I let him go and sit on the couch, ready for the lectures and the hate. Ponyboy's nodding off in the armchair, a lazy smile on his face. He looks up at Darry for a moment and says seriously, "I brought him back, Dar. Ain't it great?" He breaks it off with a soft chuckle and goes back to his nod.

They all go rigid as if it wasn't obvious before. Soda goes over and balances on the arm of the chair, staring angrily at the wall. Two-Bit and Darry give me hard looks. Darry growls, "What the hell happened, Steve?"

Two-Bit corrects, "Better yet, what the fuck did you give him this time?" I flinch. Two Bit didn't usually curse like that. He only did that when something was truly pushing him beyond his limit.

I raise my hands in surrender, "I didn't give him nothing, I swear! He came by and tried to get me off the junk. I was right in the middle of a fix so, I kinda blacked out. Next thing I know is he's screaming bloody murder and I've got his arm wrenched behind his back. He shot up the shit before I could stop him, but I tried. If this is what it's doing to me, then I'm done with all of it."

The fight dies out in their eyes. Darry sighs, "I wish it didn't have to get this out of control for you to realize that, but I'm glad you finally did. We're gonna help you through this. Both of you. That's what you should have done in the first place." I nod miserably. I knew it then and I know it now. He gestures for me to stand so I do, warily. "C'mon, let's go."

"Go where?" I ask, completely thrown for a loop.

He rolls his eyes. "We're getting some of the junk out of your system. So let's start with fifty push-ups."

My jaw goes slack. Is he serious? I haven't done those since basic, almost two years ago! I do what he says though, knowing that it will pump it out of me faster. I drop down and start. After fifteen, I know this isn't gonna be easy. By twenty-five my muscles are shaking and I'm sweating like a dog. Forty and I'm on fire. I grunt with every one, wincing and panting in between. Finally I hit fifty and allow my arms to drop me to the floor. I slow my heavy breathing and lift my head up to see Two-Bit doing them with ease. What? I'm getting beat by that clown who struggled with thirty in basic? Now I know for sure that I'm messed up.

My break is short lived. Darry makes me do fifty sit-ups and our goal is met halfway into the fifty jumping jacks. Or rather, his goal. I was struggling for lack of physical fitness before, but now my body is running low. I've sweat and used up what was left from my last hit yesterday. It's like a poison, you don't know it's killing you until you're dying. At least, that's what it feels like.

I try to struggle through the suffering to reach my fifty jumping jacks for Darry, but I can't. The nausea wins and I stumble over to the wastebasket nearby. I don't think I could have made it to the bathroom. I drop to my knees quickly and my stomach lurches. I heave for a good long while before I'm able to curl in on myself on the floor. I'm cold and I ache. All I want to do is pass out. I have the strength to do this though. I won't let the drugs win...

Darry's POV

Steve crumbles to the floor along with my resolve. I don't know what I'm doing. I know what I have to do and it's all I can want, but getting there... This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. My youngest brother and a buddy as good as a brother are both facing a vacation in hell because of what they've done to themselves. I want to scream and yell and knock some sense into them, but I know it's not going to get me anywhere. It's not going to save them.

I do the right thing and help Steve down the hall into Ash's room. I ease Steve onto the bed, taking his jacket and shoes. His arms make me want to cry, the track marks in stark contrast to the pale flesh. Shuddering with chills, he wraps himself in the blankets and shuts his eyes tight. He isn't crying out though or complaining in any way. That's a good sign. Pony expressed his misery early on.

"You need anything?" I ask from the doorway. He shakes his head briskly with his eyes still closed. I sigh, but take his word for it. There's nothing I can really do for him now except be here. I leave the door wide open and go back out to check on the others.

Ponyboy is right where I left him, enjoying what I hope to be his final high. He looks asleep, but I know he's not. Two-Bit is sitting on the arm where Soda was. He lifts one of Pony's eyelids, gauging the pupil's response. I see him frown and then check our youngest brother's pulse. My heart seizes in my chest and I rush over, afraid that something's happening.

Two-Bit looks up at me, startled. He sees my distress and murmurs, "He'll be fine, Dar. I think he's just loaded up on heroin."

It's my turn to be startled. Since when was he an expert? Two-Bit shrugs and says easily, "I did some research when I found out about Pony. Look, I'm real sorry-"

I shake my head. My voice is weary and drones, "It ain't your fault, Two-Bit. I know you were just trying to do the right thing. It's not exactly like there's a manual for this sort of thing."

He chuckles, but it's an empty sound. "And ain't that the truth."

I nod sadly. I slap him on the back to let him know that all is forgiven and to maybe offer some sort of comfort. Then I edge over to Sodapop who's sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He looks more exhausted than I've ever seen him. He doesn't need to be here. I sigh, "Soda, go home to your wife. She needs you more right now. We got this."

My brother raises his head and stares at me. He snaps bitterly, "A whole goddamn year, Darry; they've been at this for almost a whole goddamn year. Why the fuck wouldn't they come to us for help?"

I ease down on the cushion next to him. I feel as worn out as he looks, but I know I'm not gonna get any sleep for awhile. I look up and pray for the answers to come to be, but I'm met with silence. I answer honestly, "I just don't know, little buddy." We all sigh heavily and go quiet. Everything's been said that needs to be so now we're left with nothing to do but wait.

Soda stands up and says his goodbyes. He gives us all a tight hug for moral support including the incoherent Ponyboy. The internal battle is obvious in his pained eyes as he reaches the door. I know that he wants to stay just as much as he needs to leave. I give him that push by saying, "Go on. I'll call if anything changes or we're about to pass out." He nods, trusting my word.

Almost as soon as Soda leaves I hear Steve panting and hissing loudly. Two-Bit and I share a look that says it all, this is going to be a long night. I help Two-Bit take Pony to his bed and we shrug his jacket off, careful of the cast. My eyes lock onto all of the scars. Steve has nothing on this. Two-Bit inhales sharply and I sit there stunned. I reach a shaking hand over to push up the T-shirt sleeve and find even more marks. He is fucking covered in them! I bet there's not a clean spot left on his body. If it's covered, it's hiding something. We share another long look and let Pony lie down.

I push back the lump in my throat and stand up. I walk across the hall to Steve's room and go in. He sounds like a marathon runner. His breath comes so hard from fighting the pain that spit spurts from his clenched teeth. He opens his eyes just long enough to see me dragging the desk chair to the side of the bed. He shuts them tight and his face contorts as his whole body caves in. He holds his breath, waiting for it to pass. It does and he relaxes slightly.

He hisses, "It fucking hurts, Darry."

I bow my head even though he can't see me. I say sadly, "I know, buddy. I know."

My response seems to catch him off guard because his face scrunches up in confusion. I think he was expecting a fight, but I don't have the energy. He closes his eyes and says, "I'm sorry Dar. I didn't mean to hurt the kid. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

I groan. I was hoping that was some kind of accident or something. Forgiveness isn't something that can be taken anymore. It has to be earned, like our trust. "We'll talk about it later, Steve. You want to make amends though and prove you're sorry? Start by getting clean."

He nods and I see the shame in his eyes. We don't talk for a few hours after that. He's wracked with pain and chills, sweating profusely. He tries to keep quiet about it, to stay strong, but every now and then he whimpers. At least he isn't screaming. No, that wouldn't make a difference. Every wince makes me cringe inwardly, twisting the knife lodged in my heart. This is as much our fault for not noticing as it is theirs for getting in so deep.

Two-Bit's POV

How could I be so stupid? I should have told Darry and Soda as soon as I found out. I shouldn't have left Ponyboy alone when he was drying out. I shouldn't have left him with Steve. I should have... There's a lot I should have done. My biggest regret is not noticing when they started this crap. The signs were all right there, but we thought giving them space and time would help. We were so wrong.

I sit on the edge of Pony's bed just watching him. An unnatural peace settles on his face, but I know it's a lie. He looks older than I've ever seen him. Will he ever look young again or have the drugs permanently ruined him? I hope not. He deserves his innocence back. Out of all of us, he's had the roughest breaks. Maybe if he hadn't witnessed so many of his good friends die right in front of him, he'd be okay. He's seen more death than anyone I know, other than death itself. It's not fair.

T-Bone sleeps at my feet, making me jealous. It's hard for me to believe that my guard dog let Pony slip by him, but I know it isn't his fault. We've both made the mistake of trusting this new Ponyboy. We both miss the real one. It's easy to let our guard down when he looks almost like the same person. I won't make the same mistake twice though. He's getting clean whether he wants to or not because he needs to and we need him to.

The sky begins to lighten and Ponyboy stirs. His bright eyes half open. I can see he's still doped to the gills. Man, Steve must have had some high quality junk. I'm tired of waiting. I help him get up and force him to do some jumping jacks to wake up. I do them with him so he can't complain I'm being cruel. His endurance is trashed. He tries to give up after ten, claiming that this is childish, but I make him continue. After twenty his face drips with sweat and I can see the struggle as he attempts to keep going. The junk isn't nearly out of his system yet, but he's just that out of it. We keep going until fifty and we switch to pushups. He struggles with those even more. His arms shake under him like an earthquake and I worry he may drop on his face, but he pants through it. After twenty sit-ups he throws up in the wastebasket by the bed. Not just once or twice, but he heaves until there's nothing left.

I drag him to his feet and half carry him to the kitchen. I sit him at the table and bring him a glass of water and some toast. He wrinkles his nose at it, but slowly nibbles until it's gone. His eyes loose some of the glassy sheen. I wonder how long it'll be until he dries out. The sooner the better, but I don't want to overexert him to get there.

Steve is feeling better so Darry reintroduces him to the living room. They both look like they spent the night in a trench. It's difficult to say who looks more haggard: Darry is pale with deep circles and bags under his eyes, but Steve is just the same only moves like he's made of glass. One looks about to drop dead and the other looks like he's worried death is on his heels. I've never Steve look so anxious.

He sees Ponyboy and flinches. I don't know why considering he's the better looking out of all of us. Steve stammers to me, "H-how's he, he doing? Good- I mean, better than me, I-I hope."

I look up at Darry quickly. He just shrugs. "He's been like this for awhile now," he says wearily. I look back at Steve who is jumpy despite how tired he looks. There's still a small film of sweat on his forehead. What have these boys been taking?

"I'll look after Steve for awhile, Dar," I volunteer. Pony should be pretty easy to watch for at least a couple more hours. This is the time he thinks most clearly, or so I gather from my limited experience with him in this state. He has his will power back and likely won't try to run because there's nothing to run from right now.

Darry nods, some of the tension rolling off his shoulders. "Yeah, sure. He do okay last night?"

I give him a long look. He sighs, thinking about it. It's hard to say Pony was okay when he was stoned off his ass. I answer the question he means to ask, "He's still got a good few hours, Dar."

I sit with Steve we watch the TV for a time. I wince every time he opens his mouth to say something. Word salad. He gets frustrated with it too, but he just can't get his muscles to work the way he wants them to. I hope it isn't anything permanent. I don't even know what he's been using.

I help him down the hall around three to the room and he drops like a lead weight on the bed. He passes out before his eyes even fully shut. I wish I could sleep, but I know better. Even thinking about it is dangerous. I don't think I've ever really met this level of mental exhaustion before-except maybe when they were taken as POW and I was confined to the hospital wing. Only, I think I was more awake then because I had all that nervous energy keeping me on full alert.

A groan echos through the room. I glance down, but Steve is practically dead to the world if you omit the light breathing. I make sure the window is locked, not that he has the strength to open it, and rush over to Pony's room. It's not like there's anyone else to fuss over at present. T-Bone is already there with Darry. Gosh, Pony can't even go twelve hours without a hit?

Pony is writhing on the bed, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. Sweat pours off him and he grits his teeth, hissing with every breath. It came on fast this time. I can tell it's hurting Darry so I say, "Go check on Steve, will yah? I'll take over here."

He shakes his head with a frown. "No, he's my brother and I need to be here for him. I can handle it."

"Yeah? Well you could handle it a lot better from the other room. Really, Darry, there's nothing you can do here except be miserable. I think he'll feel a little less guilty without you in the room."

I see the fight in his eyes. Ponyboy should feel guilty for this, not not yet. Darry takes the hint and leaves with one last pained look at our brother. Ponyboy kicks his covers off and moans. I wish I could just do something, but I can't. This is on him.

I go sit in the doorway as a guard with my back up against the frame and my feet braced on the other side. T-Bone follows and lays his head on my lap. He sighs, shifting his sad eyes to meet mine. I rub his head and lay my head back. Ponyboy whimpers which makes both of us cringe. T whines, his eyes begging me to help. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and he gets up, walking over to lay on the floor in front of the bed.

THUMP

I jump, tearing my eyes over to the sound. Ponyboy crawls on all fours across the floor towards me and I get up, going to him. He gripes my upper arms painfully tight, but I refuse to wince. He chokes on a sob and rasps, "Please, Two-Bit, just kill me. I can't go through this again. I can't! It hurts- It hurts so bad. I just want it to stop. Please make it stop."

My face hardens as I fight the tears. I wrap him in a tight hug that he weakly returns. His shoulders shake and tears run down his face. "Don't you dare talk like that, Pony. I don't ever want to hear you talking about killing yourself again, okay? You've tried for long enough," I say firmly. He cries harder, but I don't move.

"Please then just give me a hit. I just need a little something-anything," he whines. I shake my head in disbelief. Why can't he understand what it's doing to him? He pushes me away roughly, rage growing in his fevered eyes. He hisses, "Asshole. I fucking hate you, you know that? You take away everything and then try to kill me slowly! You call that helping? Well fuck you." Dead silence. I'm so dumbfounded from that slap to the face I can't even breath. Like a switch is flipped, he chokes, "Jesus Christ- fuck. Two-Bit, dammit, I'm sorry. You don't what this is doing to me, man."

I go over and hug him again. "I know, Pony. It's turning you into something you're not. You see that, right?"

He sniffles and leans back. "Yeah," he whispers brokenly. I don't think he did until just now. He was getting clean for us, but maybe now he'll do it for himself too.

I help him back into the bed after that little episode and sit with him, being careful not to get kicked. The house sounds like a damn Army hospital, curses and groans filling the rooms. It's hard work, watching after them, but we don't give into sleep once. We stay up all night with them and eventually the dawn rises again. It's beautiful because this time, Pony watches it through the window. It's so normal for him that it fills me with hope. He's in there somewhere.

**Ah! Epic chapter, right? Anyway some scenes are modeled after the Basketball Diaries, but I think they apply to most of these situations. Reviews please! They make me happy and all are welcome! **


	23. Chapter 23

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-Three

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I don't think I've had this many for a single chapter before! So, as my gift unto you here is the next chapter. Haha! This chapter may be a little... odd. Back to Pony's POV.**

Pony's POV

Am I dead? I feel like I'm in hell which is where I'm sure I'm heading for all the wrongs I've done. I've killed people, I've hurt people, I've ruined myself... I'm ruined...

"Ah hell, Pony, you ain't ruined. You're just... sick right now. You'll get well soon. Just a few more days and you should be right as rain," chirps Two-Bit. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

I groan. A few more days of this agony? There's no way I can take it. I have to find a way, I know that, but it's so hard to see past the pain and delirium. I looked for my stash last night when Two-Bit stepped out, but they wised up before locking me in here. It was all gone. Needless to say, when Two-Bit got back he was upset at the state of the overturned room.

BANG! Something explodes out in the distance. I flinch violently, but Two-Bit is perfectly calm. Why is he so calm? He shouldn't be this calm! I'm not that calm! I have to get out of here!

Two-Bit pins me down, stopping my struggle. He soothes, "Calm down, Ponyboy! It was just a car backfiring- nothing to worry about. It happens all the time in this neighborhood. You're safe."

The word echos through my head. _Safe?_ My eyes glaze over and everything tunnels. Sound muffles in my ears, the lights dim. I'm acutely aware that my breathing picks up, but the only thing I can really focus on is what I'm seeing behind my eyes.

_I sling my rifle off my shoulder, shooting wildly behind me. They're practically right on our tail! I run as fast as I can, pushing my legs to go faster. Bang! Bullets fly all around me and jungle tries to trip me. I hurtle a fallen tree and catch sight of a soldier leaning up against a tree. He weakly lifts his arm towards me, his hand red. Shit. _

_I grab up the soldier with my left hand, laying cover fire with my other hand. If you think it's easy to shoot a rifle with one hand, you're crazy. There's no such thing as aim and it's painfully cumbersome. Like the soldier. He picks up his feet, using me more as a brace to keep him upright. We use the momentum and barrel through the jungle. _

_Somehow we catch up to the rest of the squad and bunker down behind the trees. They're prepared for the fire fight now, using the trees as shields. They take careful precision to cut down as many of the VC as possible. I'd join them, but my medic duties supersede. I lay him flat on the mud and kneel down next to him. It's hard to keep from slipping in the sludge, but there's no place drier. _

_He's got a bullet wound to the gut, a few inches below his ribcage. Blood is already soaking his worn fatigues, bleeding into the rain. I tear open the shirt to get a better look, but it's not much help. The blood just pools on his stomach. The man is pale and shaking violently- shock. I'm not a surgeon. All I can do is try to keep him alive until we can get to one. I don't think we have that long. _

_I try to keep my voice calm and reassure him, "It's gonna be okay, man. Just calm down. You're gonna be fine." His head jerks a nod, but I don't think he understands me. I shout over to the squad leader, "We gotta get outta here or he ain't gonna make it!"_

_The squad leader holds his fire and looks over, his face hard and determined. That's what I like about them, they're always cool even when the shit hits the fan. He hollers back, "Where the fuck we gonna go, Curtis? It's just us out here! You do what you can with what you got like everybody else!" _

_I go back the wounded soldier. His eyes are shut tight. I lightly tap his face to make sure he stays awake and apply pressure to the wound with a bandage. It quickly stains with bright red. It's sick how much red and green there is here- like some kind of satanic Christmas. _

_His breath shallows and he caves a little to escape the pressure. I don't let him. His mouth moves, but I can't make it out over the gunfire. I move closer and lean over. His voice quivers, "T-tell my wife... Tell my wife I l-love her. I-I never wrote a-a letter..." Then his eyes roll back in his head and he goes limp. He's not breathing. _

_I pound on his chest, trying to force it to beat again. He stays unnaturally still. "Dammit!" I shout, slinging my rifle into my hands again. I fire, the familiar recoil against my shoulder. Bam, Bam, Bam! _

_Something slaps my face. _My body jerks and I see Two-Bit hovering over me. His face is dark and clouded with worry, eyes wide. I rove my eyes around the room. I'm breathing heavy and my muscles are tense. I'm not in 'Nam anymore... But it felt so real. It was like I was really back there, trying to save Pvt. Johnson.

Two-Bit move his mouth and I try to focus. He says it again, more firmly to let me know he's been asking for a few minutes, "I said, are you okay, Pony?"

"I..." The words die in my throat. What just happened? Where am I? I lean over the bed and vomit into the trash bin. I don't know if it's from the nerves or withdrawal.

"Jesus, Pony," shakes a green Two-Bit. "Warn a guy next time, will yah?"

I nod miserably, closing my eyes. Another goddamn cramp seizes me and I shudder. I hate this. I just want it to end. It tightens and I cry out, making T-Bone whine. How long has he been here? How long have...? Oh shit. Tunnel vision again...

_I walk over to the crates and see Two-Bit, T-Bone, and Steve playing poker again with some of the guys. T-Bone spots me first and charges, jumping up with his massive forepaws. Standing like he is, he's almost as tall as me. He barks a greeting and tries to lick my face. I laugh, pushing him back down. He sees that as an invitation to play and headbutts my legs, knocking me down to the mud. _

_The guys all laugh and I see the wallets come out from the corner of my eye. I chuckle and make a grab for T's front leg. He jumps back playfully, tail wagging uncontrollably behind him. He tries to circle around me a lunge, but I anticipate it and grab him. I lock my arm like a harness with my hand looped between his front legs and across his chest. He knows there's no escape and lunges backward. I'm thrown on my back, but I take him with me. We struggle for a few more minutes before he sighs and give up the fight. I release him and he turns fast, pinning me back to the ground. That sneaky sonofa-_

"Pony!"

I force myself into a sitting position with my back against the headboard. I shiver and wrap my warms around myself for warmth, drawing my knees up to my chin. I'm done with these new flashbacks. From the looks of it, Two-Bit is too. He sighs and leans back, seeing me awake. I whisper, "They're just flashbacks, Two-Bit. I'm fine."

He frowns and his brow furrows. He argues, "You don't look fine."

I raise my head and snap, "Yeah? Well you wouldn't either if you were being forced to go through hell!"

He raises his hands in surrender and smooths his face. There used to be a time when he couldn't hide his emotions to save his life. I miss those days because it was a reminder of how safe and young we were. It's just another thing the Army took to harden him. What did it take from me? War takes every soldier's innocence, but it also takes a piece of personality. Two-Bit learned to hide, Darry lost his ability to hide, Soda grew a temper, and Steve and I found a shit load of guilt. I also feel empty and lost, like the only real emotion I feel anymore is pain.

In the silence I can hear Steve- agonized. It cuts my core like a razor blade and I flinch. All I can hear is that tortured whimper and Darry's soothing words that are too far away to make out. I lean my head back and shut my eyes tight, trying to block it out. I can feel Two-Bit tense. It takes me a moment before the sound tunnels and I remember why that was a bad idea.

_Pftpftpftpft. Bullets spit into the earth, spraying dirt into the air, close to the foxhole. All the hard work pays off as they hit the sandbags instead of us. I'm tending to the wounded as best I can, but more keep coming. This ambush is bigger by far than any we've faced before. They're after the intelligence buildings, but we are truly fucked if we let them break through the southern perimeter here. _

_The kid I'm working on is riddled with bullet holes. My hands are so slick it's hard to hold on to my instruments, but I make do like everybody else. He's got a hole in his leg, but it's clean through. The only thing to do there is keep him from getting an infection or from bleeding out. He's got a graze on his left cheek that goes all the way to his ear; it needs stitches. More troubling are the two bullets to his torso, one to the chest and one to the abdomen. He's so holey the Pope ought to bless him- that's the only way he's making it out of this. _

_Steve is firing at the gooks in between helping me keep these men alive. I can't move away from this kid because he's the most critical, but I wish I could because this is a lost cause and there are plenty of others in critical. There's a least eight patients in this hole alone. I'm literally up to my elbows in blood and guts. What a beautiful fucking war it is. _

_The kid is a fighter, but he's loosing the battle. I know quite a few other soldiers who couldn't make it this long with lesser wounds. His face is pale and colorless other than the bright red. His eyes glaze over and his breathing becomes uneven, like every breath is a ten mile hike. Then, it stops and the light goes out in him. I pound on his chest, fighting with him to live, but his heart stays still. _

_I sit back for a moment, taking it in. The horror around me makes itself known where I was ignoring it before. Bullets and guns, flashes and flares, bombs, napalm in the distance, all of it exploding in a constant stream. The sound is so loud that I can't even hear my thoughts. I feel like I'm going deaf, but one sound in particular stands out over the roar. The wounded men are screaming, crying, writhing in torment. I see one young soldier, an unwounded rookie, sitting against the barricade with his arms wrapped around his knees, his rifle a foot away in the mud, crying with absolute terror written on his face. He hears what I hear, but he can't take it. He sees what I see, but I know what to do with it. Even still, the sounds cut me and I know I'll hear it even in my sleep when it's over. _

_I snap out of it and move on, going from man to man, trying to keep their insides in. By the time the fight is over and the men are as stitched as I can get them, I'm drained. There's a hole inside of me like a cavity. I fake it and go blank, pretending that I'm fine. If anyone disbelieves me, they keep it to themselves. Steve takes one look at my tired eyes and he knows, but that's okay because I see the same thing reflected in his eyes. We're not the same as we used to be and we may never be alright again._

I sit there numbly. I didn't remember that. I've been trying to block out most of those last few months. They were the worst. Two-Bit was gone, I'd already been shot once, my brothers were on the other side of the jungle, and everywhere there was death. I knew better than to get close to anyone at that point because the chances were good they'd be dead soon. It was just me and Steve, but we didn't talk much either. We didn't need to. Anything we could say we read in each others haunted eyes.

T-Bone barks, demanding my attention. I flinch and snap out of my reverie. Two-Bit looks even more worried now. I can't help it though. Everything makes me think of the war. Before it was all I could really think about, but now it's all I can see too. All of those repressed memories are surfacing and I can't do a damn thing about it.

Another cramp tightens and I just cry. I don't know why I ever cared if it was tough or not. I can't care enough about anything anymore. So I let the tears come. I'm lost and I'm miserable and I hate my past. I've seen too much, done too much, heard more than most men in a lifetime. I can't say that much of it was good- if any. I miss who I was before the war, but I know he isn't coming back. He died the second the letter came.

I blink and suddenly I'm not here anymore. I'm there- a different time and a different place. Why won't they stop?

"_Yo, Curtis!" calls Ryan. _

_I look up from my letter and grin. He always has a way of making my day. I think it's because he's always grinning like Sodapop or Two-Bit. Under his arm is a six-pack of beer. My grin widens as does Roger's. Steve chuckles. _

"_Thank God for the Saint Ryan!" Steve hollers. I punch his arm and he turns to me, his eyes asking 'what the hell did I do?' _

_We let him get closer before tackling him and wrestling him for the beer, just in case he got any wild ideas about not sharing. Steve and Roger pin him and I grab the pack, dancing away to safety. Steve lets him up and even dusts off his shoulder for him as a peace offering. Roger takes his hand and shakes it firmly for added reassurance. Ryan laughs, "Well hell, what yous think I was gonna not shares with yous or something?"_

_I chime innocently, "Well the thought did come to mind." _

_They all laugh and we go sit over by some crates to avoid the grass. We each crack one open and take a long sip, savoring the bitter flavor. It doesn't matter that it's warm and pretty disgusting. It still feels like a taste of home. I can imagine sitting on the back porch after a long day helping Darry work on a house with the gang. We'd all gather and drink some cold ones, although I had to hide mine from my biggest brother. _

_Ryan's in an exceptionally good mood, even for him. I ask, "You get another letter?" He nods, practically glowing. He doesn't elaborate and I prod, "Well...? You gonna tell us?" _

_He laughs, snorting beer out of his nose in a foamy mess. That makes us all howl as he chuckles and curses in his thick Jersey accent, pinching his nose. "Ow! Now I don't know if I wants to tell yous, but I guess I can forgives ya since yous didn't keep my stolen beer. My sisters been telling me that Auntie Linda gots some big promotion and so's we gonna get a real house that gives 'em each their own rooms. I just gots six letters each telling me's what they's gonna do with their room. The kicker is, Auntie Linda don't wanna move nowhere's." _

_We chuckle and his eyes sparkle. His letters are his whole world. Steve crunches the empty can in his fist and smirks, "So where did you score the beer?"_

_He grins devilishly, "Froms 118's confiscated stash. That place is a gold mine! Anyways so I was just strolling alongs and came across the tent. I figures, why not? So's I point off towards the jungle and shouts to the guard, 'Look a flying gook!' and the sucker actually falls for it! I slips in, grabs the first thing I sees and slips out without him seeing a thing!" _

_I nearly roll off my crate and Steve has to grab my shoulder to keep me from taking a nose dive. I can just picture loud mouth Ryan, chomping loudly on his gum, trying to be a secret agent and breaking into the MP tent on the other side of base. Steve and Roger are laughing just as hard, probably imagining something similar. _

"_Ryan," Roger wheezes, "you're outta your mind. What do we keep you around for?" _

_Ryan smirks and answers, "Well for starters, I gots yous some fine quality beer here and second, I gots the best looks of any of yas." _

_We erupt with laughter again and I push him off his crate. Our sides split, including his own. There's just something so goddamn funny about him falling down. He's as graceful as a three legged dog, sprawling and tangling his limbs even though the crates were barely hip high. _

_One of the other guys from our unit saw and holler, "Way to go, Grace." _

Two-Bit snaps his finger in front of me. My mind is fuzzy. Everything looks different. Wait... I'm home. Roger and Ryan, the jungle, the guys, none of that is here. I stumble, "Ryan. Where's Ryan?"

His face clouds in confusion. "Ryan? From 'Nam?"

I nod and look around the room, hoping to find him hiding in a corner. "Yeah, I gotta, I gotta tell him thanks for the beer."

Two-Bit nods slowly, but I can see the worry plain on his face. Pain hits me hard and I don't think about it anymore. I miss Ryan and the jungle. I had a purpose over there. Now I'm just a miserable wreck and a waste of space. Time blurs again.

When I surface next I feel better, not good, but better. The cramps are mostly gone and it doesn't feel like they'll be back. Now I'm just tired and achy which is tolerable. The only thing that is holding my head under the water is this insatiable itch under my skin putting me on edge.

Two-Bit is passed out on the floor, using T-Bone as a pillow. My mouth feels like I swallowed a cotton ball. I mumble, still half asleep, "Hey, Two-Bit..."

He jerks awake in a second, looking panicked. His eyes widen when he sees me conscious and he grins, "Hey, Pony. How you doing?"

I struggle up to a sitting position, feeling incredibly weak. "Better. Could you get me some water?"

He nods excitedly, pleased with my progress. He dashes out and is back in sixty seconds flat. I barely had the time to stretch my sore muscles. I carefully drink the wet water, tilting my head back to gulp it down. I know better than to guzzle the whole thing on such an empty stomach, but I want to. It takes effort, but I bring my arm back down and look up at Two-Bit. I offer a sad smile and say, "How are you? I'm sure that wasn't easy for you. I'm sorry for whatever I might have said..."

He waves it off, "It sure as hell wasn't a walk in the park, but hey, what else are buddies for? You feel up to eating?"

I'm not sure, but I do feel empty. I nod slowly and his grin widens. I ease my legs over the side of the bed and try to stand up, but they wobble and nearly knock me to the floor. He steadies me and I grin my thanks. I put a hand on his shoulder and he keeps his on mine so that we move at a crawling but steady pace out to the living room. He sets me on the couch by Steve and goes to get me something from the kitchen. Steve looks like shit, as I'm sure I do, but there's something in his eyes that makes up for it- life. Darry offers me a tight smile from his armchair, but it doesn't reach his sad eyes.

I don't know what to say, so I start with, "Hey."

Darry and Steve both chuckle, a light in both their eyes. The sound warms my heart and I know that even though I've screwed up royally, they still love me. They'll be here for me every step of the way because they're my brothers. I don't know why I ever doubted that or when I stopped believing it.

Someone is missing though, "Where's Soda?"


	24. Chapter 24

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-Four

**Yay, I'm glad y'all are still enjoying! I took into account the feedback so you may be finding something if you made a suggestion. Thanks for your reviews!**

Steve's POV

We've been clean for a week. It's been the hardest thing I've ever done. There were so many times I just wanted to quit, but then I thought of the gang and I knew I couldn't let them down. Even now, I have that itch- that urge. I'm sure that Pony's is worse. His withdrawal was even worse than mine because of all the shit he pumped into himself. I typically stuck with one thing, but Pony was going at anything heavy. The proof of that is in his hallucinations or flashbacks or whatever he was having.

To celebrate, Darry and Two-Bit took us to the drive-in movie theater. They were worried, but when the movie started we all got so engaged that we didn't even think about making a break for it. The credits are rolling now. Darry stretches in the front seat, joints popping. Pony likewise stretches and announces that he needs to use the restroom. Our guards exchange a wary look so I volunteer to go with him.

Pony and I trek between the parked cars and join the line that wraps around the building. I groan inwardly and roll my eyes. Is this really worth it? He doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he just wanted a break from the others.

About halfway through the line, someone comes up to him acting like a friend. I don't know everyone he does so I don't think anything of it. There's something about him that tenses me up, but who am I to judge so quick? He's acting friendly. I catch what it is right before he pulls out a bag. His hair is stringy, eyes red and dull, skin almost translucent, jacket sleeves long. I'll be damned if I let this cat ruin our hard work.

My little brother makes a move to take the bag, his eyes lit with a desperate want. I shove the cat away and make sure the bag stays in his hand. "You got any brains, get the fuck out of here," I warn lowly. He glares at me until his eyes lock onto the outline of my tags through my shirt. He stands, dusts himself off, and leaves without another word.

"Why the _fuck_ did you do that, Steve?" Pony growls hoarsely. A dangerous rage burns in his eyes. I know that feeling too well. His arm still has the cast to prove it.

I sigh and then answer, "I'm not gonna let you throw away everything this time. Be glad I'm not one of the others right now because they'd have kicked both his and your ass for little near slip."

He narrows his eyes. "I didn't ask for your help."

I shrug and say easily, "Yeah, well, I didn't ask you for yours but you still are always trying to pull my ass out of the mud. The way I figure it, it's my turn to save your life."

I can see the gears grinding in his head. He wants to cuss me out so bad, but he clamps down on the urge. There's a thousand things he wants to say, but instead he chooses, "Let's go."

My face hardens and I punch his arm. What the hell was he thinking?! "So that'swhy we got in this goddamn line? You were looking for a fucking fix? Ponyboy, I have half a mind to pummel your ass! We're through the worst of the shit so you better get back on the fucking wagon and stay there. I don't care if I have to tie you up in a closet, but I will make sure you stay clean."

He loosens up, looking sorry and sad. Good. He should for that little stunt. I put a hand on his shoulder, in case he tries to run, and guide him back to the car. I scowl all the way. Two-Bit raises an eyebrow as I slam Pony's door shut and get in on my side. Now I notice my hands are shaking and I'm breathing hard. How long have I been doing that? I was so focused on Pony that I didn't even realize that the bag got to me too. Jesus...

Darry shies, "What happened? You two okay?"

I nod, leaning my head against the cool window. I mumble, "There was a line. We're fine."

They look doubtful, but don't ask anymore questions. It's a quiet ride home. Ponyboy goes straight to bed, to try and sleep the edge off probably. I flip on the TV as a distraction and flop on the sofa. I'm too nervous though, I can't sit still. They don't even ask when I get up and start pacing up and down the hallway. I can see their questions on the tip of their tongues, but their relaxed postures tell me they think it's just part of the withdrawal again-which it is.

The phone rings and I rush to grab it, for something to do. "Hello?" I answer.

There's a pause. It's Soda. "Hey. Is Darry there?"

It hurts that he doesn't want to talk to me. Darry tried to get him to come over once we got through the worst, but he wouldn't. I know that he has a lot more on his plate right now than us, but it still hurts he hasn't at least called to talk to one of us. I'd have thought he'd at least talk to Ponyboy, being his baby brother and all. He must blame us for what happened at the library.

I sigh, but resign myself to the cold shoulder treatment. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Can I talk to him?" he snaps impatiently.

"Jesus, Soda, yeah. Here you go," I answer roughly, feeling like a scolded puppy.

I hand Darry the phone and leave the room. If Soda wants to be a prick about it, I don't want to hear from him either. I'm trying to get clean for them-including him, but I can't take his hurt like that. I already know he's hurt and he has every right to be, but damn. It's not like him to be so cold. I walk into Pony's room and he looks up from his desk. His foot is hammering the floor a mile a minute.

"Who's on the phone?" he asks.

"Soda."

"Oh," he says quietly, "what'd he say?"

I give him a point look as if to say 'what do you think', but I answer roughly, "I don't know. He didn't want to talk to me."

Pony nods and goes quiet for a few minutes, returning to the paper on his desk. He picks up the pencil and taps the eraser to a beat similar to his foot. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor next to T-Bone. He wags his tail and shuffles closer so this his nose is touching my jeans. I stroke his fur affectionately. At least T still trusts me.

We both look over when Pony's shoulders start shaking. He throws the pencil across the room and buries his head in his hands. T-Bone and I both go over, concerned. I put a hand on Pony's shoulder and ease, "What's wrong, Pony?"

He looks up. To my horror I realize he's crying. He mumbles, "He hates us doesn't he? For what we've done- who we've become."

I crouch down and force him to meet my eyes. I've wondered the same thing all week. "Soda doesn't hate anyone. He's just hurt right now from everything that's been going on. I mean, first they lost the baby and then he found out about us... It's a lot to take in. He needs some time to sort through it all, y'know?"

Pony nods, but I don't think he believes me. With a frustrated hand he wipes away the tears. He picks up a new pencil and goes back to tapping on the page. I look over his shoulder to see what he's writing and he snatches it away. I gesture to the paper, "What's that?"

He grumbles, "Nothing."

"Liar. What is it?"

I make a grab for it, but he dives out of the chair with it clutched against his chest. I tickle him, trying to make him laugh. He does-against his will. I don't care if it's stupid or childish, we both need it. He curls up in a ball to protect the paper and I dive on top of him, flattening him to the floor. T-Bone pushes me off, all of a sudden a traitor. Then he and Pony tag team, pinning me to the floor. I struggle against the two of them, twisting this way and that, until I'm finally free. I go after T-Bone, making a grab for his leg. He dances back and switches sides. He and I pin Pony down until he calls uncle. We all sit back panting, except for T.

Pony grins, as do I. He's still hiding that paper though which makes me curious. I point at it again and gasp, "So what is it?"

His face whitens a little more, making him look ghostly, and the smile fades. I'm already sorry I asked. He whispers, "I never wrote them a just-in-case letter..."

I was not expecting that. I feel like the wind just got knocked from my lungs or the floor's been pulled out from under me. I try to take a few deep breaths to return some air. My voice shakes, "Why the fuck are you writing one now? Over here they're typically called suicide notes and I know for a goddamn fact that you ain't that fucking stupid."

He balls it up and throws it at me. I slowly unfold it as he explains, "No, I ain't gonna kill myself, Steve. I just- I never wrote one so I never really told them what they mean to me. And then, I forgot. When we got back, I couldn't remember why I loved them. I didn't... trust them, I guess. So now that I'm... I'm trying to remember."

I narrow my eyes when he omits the word 'clean'. I know that he is still drying out, but he's mostly there. It's not like that's anything to be ashamed of. Getting clean is the proud half. The fucked up part is using and he had less trouble admitting to that. Maybe now he doesn't want to even think about any of it- the using or being clean. Maybe he just wants to move on.

I lower my voice as it all starts to make sense, "And that's why you went to Shepard's. Curly was a part of your past that didn't change so you figured if you could talk to him, he could bring it back. Only you found Tim with his fucked up habit which solidified the sense that everything changed. So you gave up, which made me give up. You know, one thing that didn't change is that the people who loved you before all this shit went down still love you."

He looks up and meets my eye. I see that familiar flash of life and smile. He says in surprise, "When did you get so wise, Randle?"

I chuckle and rough up his hair, remembering that long ago conversation. I retort, "Wise-ass, you mean."

He laughs and punches my shoulder. We both calm down after that talk, a temporary reprieve from the nervous edge of wanting what we can't have. It isn't so bad, but it gets old fast. I enjoy the relief while it lasts, finally able to think about other things way more important and healthy than drugs- like Evie and what I'm gonna say to her. She may have already moved on. What am I going to do if she has? Now that I'm near straight again, I miss her something fierce. I have her ring hooked on my tags still and never take it off, but I can only hope she'll be willing to take it back-take _me_ back.

The front door opens, the familiar screen door slamming behind whoever it is. I glance at Pony to make sure he's not having another flashback. He seems chalkier, but he meets my eyes so I know he's still here. Soda's voice floats through the house like a ghost, too thin to make out. So now the moment comes.

I grab the back of Pony's neck and push him along so he can't chicken out. We get to the living room and I let him go. All eyes turn on us. Soda looks worn out. His face is tight, drained, his eyes have big bags under the dark bloodshot eyes. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was in a fight or shaping up to be a raccoon.

"Hey, Soda," Pony trembles with a weak smile. If he were a hummingbird, he'd pass out from the sheer anxiety.

There's a brief moment when I don't think Sodapop is going to respond. He has a hard look in his eye and I know that he's pissed. I just hope he realizes we're still both fragile because one wrong word could send us spiraling again. Pony knows it too and gulps, waiting for the ax to fall.

Sodapop cracks, "Ponyboy..." Then he takes us all of guard and wraps Pony in a sudden hug, tears streaming down his face. "God, you look so much better, Pony. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I just couldn't do it. It wasn't your fault- I know that now. What happened could have happened to anybody."

He lets go and gives Pony a warm smile. Then he comes over and gives me a quick one too. He says just as honestly, "Steve, I don't hate you, man. I don't think I'd have done anything differently. Thanks for waking him up though."

We all recoil as though he's lost his mind. I furrow my brow and inform him, "Look, buddy, I wish it was me, but Pony's the one who woke _me_ up."

He nods and gives me a very strange look, it almost looks like guilt or regret. He says slowly, "Yeah, but he wouldn't have woken up at all if we hadn't made him realize what he did to you. He didn't get clean for us, he got clean for you. 'Nam changed you guys. You used to just tolerate each other, but now it's you two against the world."

"I-I don't know what to say, Soda." And I really don't. He's right, but none of us thought to see it that way. I woke up because Pony forced my hand. I thought I was getting clean for all of them, but maybe that was a smaller half. I did it to help Pony and Pony broke his arm to help me. That stupid sonofabitch. I could still kick his ass for stepping in the line of fire-again.

Soda slapped my shoulder. He grins a famous Soda grin, proving the world is right. "There's nothing to say. Just stay clean or we'll all kick the living shit out of both of you," he says chipper, but I know he means it too. Hell, I can't blame them for that._ I_ wanted to drop Pony for nearly slipping earlier today.

We all crowd the living room like we did two years ago the week before basic. Shit, has it really been that long since we've done this? Yeah, yeah it has. We've lost a lot of time, but I know that we can make up for it now that we're on the right track.

Soda grins at Pony and says, "Oh, and happy birthday, Ponyboy!"

**Yay! Not quite the drama y'all had in mind, but I hope you enjoyed! Things are gonna be winding down now so I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Y'all know me though, it's rare I go longer than a week before I update! Haha! Reviews please! The more I get, the happier I am, and the faster I update!**


	25. Chapter 25

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-Five

**Well here we are, second to last chapter! What a fun and wild ride it's been! I hope y'all have enjoyed reading as much as I have writing it. **

Pony's POV

I'm allowed to leave the house alone now, but I don't trust myself. Even when we go out as a group I make sure to stay close by. I know where every cat hangs and there's never one far enough away. I don't want it anymore, but every time I leave the house I feel that itch. It's ridiculous, but I can't help it. I think Steve feels it too, but he hides it better than me.

There's a knock at the front door, but I ignore it. My brothers are in the living room so I know they'll take care of it. I hear the door open and can't but find it all so distracting. I'm trying to read Gone With The Wind, but I can't focus to save my life. Every miniscule sound interrupts my train of thought. An unfamiliar voice drifts down the hall, sharp and distinct from the usual Oklahoma twang. Curiosity gets the better of me just as Darry hollers for me.

I hustle out to the living room and my jaw hits the floor, my feet stopping dead in their tracks. The one legged man in front of me seems so out of place I ask my oldest brother, "Dar, I ain't hallucinating again, am I?"

They all laugh and the stranger hobbles with his cane on his prosthetic over to me. He embraces me, still chuckling, and I numbly return it. I lean back and slap his face lightly, to affirm that he is in fact here. He pushes me with a huge grin, knocking me off balance. I retaliate by punching him in the shoulder with my own bright smile. I shout, "Ryan! What the hell are you doing here, man? How've you been?!"

Jakob Ryan looks the same as I last saw him, minus the foot. His eyes still hold that bright twinkle of life reflected in his grin. His skin is still just as olive toned and his hair is just as black. I don't care what he calls himself, he's Italian. His thick Jersey accent teases me, "Hells, Curtis, ain't I's wanted anymore? I's thought I told ya's to keep outta troubles. Yer big brothers called me, told me what's been going on, so's, I moved the fam's down heres and I'm gonna keep ya's outta trouble myself."

I argue stiffly, "Ryan, you ain't gotta move down here to babysit me. I'm doing much better, really. Besides, I got these bodyguards to watch out for me."

He shrugs, that grin never fading, "That's the biggest fucking lie I's ever heard! I'm a doc, 'member? Yous ain't in the clear yet."

My brothers fold their arms across their chests, interested in this new revelation. Steve and I narrow our eyes at him. They don't need to hear about how jittery we still are. I'm sure it's obvious, but we are trying to hide it. We know better than to act on the urges that attack us so what's the point?

Ryan's grin turns to a smirk and he continues, "'Sides, I's always wanted to come down heres and see yer home town for myself. I'm opening ups a clinic too. I's got the paperwork all filled out and everything."

My defense drops with that bomb. I blink a few times and make sure my ears aren't clogged. "You're actually moving down here? To Tulsa?" I question.

He nods excitedly and the guys laugh. Of course they knew about it. I contemplate asking him why, but I'm too relieved to have Ryan back in the gang. Darry and Soda didn't know him before, but they knew enough about him to welcome him. We hang around the house for a few hours, getting reacquainted, before he decides to drag us all out into the Tulsa sun. We trek around the neighborhood for a few blocks before coming to a decent enough house for this area. He practically pushes us in the door, using me as a shield. I shoot him a questioning look before I'm tackled by a little blond girl. I'm not the only one either.

Three girls are attacking all of us. I think they're being playful, but it's hard to tell with their violent giggles. I hear Ryan cracking up behind me as I push the girl back at arms length. She still tries to swing her tiny fists as me, but she can't reach. Ryan catches himself on the door frame, clutching his sides as if the laughter is tearing out of him. Two-Bit seems to be enjoying playing with the monsters and throws one up into the air. He catches her and sets her down, motioning for her to run. She does and he chases, disappearing into the house. Steve keeps looking frantically between me and the girl he's pushing like a yo-yo, every time he taps her forehead away she bounces right back. Darry and Soda follow in Two-Bit's footsteps and counterattack. What the hell?

Once Ryan mostly collects himself, he takes pity and shoos the children away. Two-Bit voluntarily keeps going though, now joined with three other girls approximately between ages seven and thirteen. The house settles down and we make ourselves comfortable on the worn furniture. Steve balances on the arm of the sofa and runs a hand through his hair, seemingly as uncomfortable around children as I. He teases, "Glory, but you weren't kidding when you said they're crazy!"

Ryan snorts with a chortle. "What you's think I's was making it up? Hells nah! They's real loveable demons once ya gets used to 'em," he sings.

I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder. Sneak attack by sister is a low blow. "So what'd you really make the big move for, huh? You could have just visited," I finally ask.

He crinkles his nose like I offended him. His grin dims, telling me I was right about it being more than just me. "Jersey was getting to be too... familiar. You's knows I can't stand no sympathies, which I's got from everybodies. So when I's got the call, I figured maybes it's a sign," he says, serious for the first time in his life. All our faces fall and I'm sorry I asked. There's something wrong about a solemn Ryan.

I spy a pack of gum on the end table and hand it to him as a gift. His face lights up in a second and he pops a stick in his grinning teeth. The war may have taken his foot from him, but it couldn't take his spirit. If that didn't do it, I don't think anything can for him. Give him gum to chomp on or a joke and he's right as rain.

He introduces us to all of his many sisters, minus the oldest who is out with her boyfriend. They're practically miniature versions of their big brother. They have dark hair and tan skin that screams Italian. Their accents are just a bit harder to make out because of their young voices, almost piercingly high. They're as tough as any of the greaser girls here, if not even more so. They could probably take on any greaser in the city. I know they'll fit right in.

We sit listening to their loud stories, intrigued by how different they were. Their gang wars were a lot like ours, but between nationalities. Naturally, they were lumped in with the Italians. They faced more violence than us because they could get dragged into an ally's rumble one day and fight that same gang the next. It sounded to me like Dally's description of the New York gangs- minus the skin color. I don't know how they made it out of that demilitarized zone with smiles in place. Maybe it isn't just a Ryan thing- maybe it's a New Jersey thing.

The front door falls open and another tall girl stumbles in with a guy in tow. He rolls his eyes at her drunken stupor and helps her up. Ryan's eyes sparkle with humor, but he hardens his face to assume the role of protective brother. "Well hellos there! And just who's is you?" he barks. I can tell he doesn't mean it.

The man jumps when he realizes there's a whole gang sitting right in the living room. "Uh, hey. I didn't get her drunk," he explains in a deep, not real bright voice. Wait... I know that voice...

Our heads all look at the guy. My eyes immediately lock on to his face, but it takes me a moment to recognize him. "Curly?" someone whispers in shock. It may have been me, but I feel numb right now with mixed emotions. There was a time he was my best friend until our huge blowout over the drugs.

It must have been me because his eyes snap like a whip to my direction. He stiffens and his eyes turn sharp. The tension is so thick even the drunk could feel it. She backs away from him and stumbles off towards the back of the house. The younger sisters follow. No one else dares to even breathe.

"Curly... how you been? You look good," I say to break the silence. It's true though. His usual greased back hair is combed back in a more professional, less greaser, style. His clothes fit better and have fewer holes. He looks like he's been working out too, not that he needed it. He doesn't look the same dimwitted hood. He looks... mature.

"Better than you anyway," he spits icily.

That's a slap in the face like kicking a man when he's down. My shoulders slump and my brothers tense, ready for anything. I don't know if they're closer to keeping me from doing something stupid or if they're closer to doing something stupid for themselves by punching his lights out. It doesn't matter which it is; Curly's right. His simple sentence rings more true than any of us would like. He's hurt by everything, including our fight. He looks down on me for being so weak. The drugs hurt myself, my family, and my friends.

I raise my hands in surrender. "I'm trying, Curls. I'm getting back on track," I plead.

He takes a step back, dropping some of his iron defenses. I see suspicion and a glimmer of hope stir in his eyes. There's no knowing where he stands now. I want my old friend back, but I have to accept the consequences of my actions. There may not be a chance for forgiveness.

Curly sighs, the walls collapsing, "I want to believe you, Curtis, but... I'll believe it when I see it."

"So stay and see for yourself," Two-Bit pipes up, interrupting our private conversation.

Ryan laughs and says, "Oh no you's ain't! Not afters bringing my sister homes drunk. What'd that be telling the others?" The three remaining girls giggle and throw whatever is in hand at their big brother. Oh so _that's _where the comedy comes in. Maybe they aren't such demons after all.

Curly edges closer to the door with a sheepish grin on his face. His eyes still hold a tint of sadness, but he seems lighter. I think he's mostly just content not to have the protective brother pounding on him for once. "I'll catch y'all later then. See you, Pony," he calls as he's backing out the door.

Ryan and Two-Bit both howl with laughter, a mutual understanding that must only come from having younger sisters. Darry and Soda chuckle slightly too while Steve and I exchange a weak smile. We don't get it. One minute the room is as thick as a cloud of smoke and the next sunshine is raining on their heads.

Eventually it gets late enough in the evening that his aunt gets home from job hunting. We meet the infamous Aunt Linda, a brave enough women to raise seven children that weren't even hers. She lives up to the reputation. She's a stocky women, strong, and wide like most middle-aged Italians. Her face is taunt like it's rare for her to smile, but when she does it lights up the room. She manages to put up with the nonsensical ways of Ryan and his sisters at the same time as being very firm about house rules. She welcomes us like family.

Linda prepares a homemade lasagna which looks as good as it smells. The table is barely big enough for the eight of them, but they manage to squeeze us five in. It's a tight fit that somehow feels comfortable. It feels like family. We dive into the food and practically melt. It tastes as heavenly as Two-Bit's momma's banana bread.

We leave when the sun sinks far below the horizon. The walk home is quiet. It's a warm night, like even the night is hugging us. I smile and think about the large addition to the clan. What could be better than having a loving family the size of a small army? Sure there was less food to go around and more bickering, but also more compassion and support. Any of them would gladly be a crutch for one of us to lean on.

As we reach the front door of the house, Two-Bit and Soda hang back. It's time for them to be heading to their own families for the night. I look forward to having Ash and Lacey around again, which should be soon. I call out to Two-Bit just one more thing, thinking about all this family. It's the oldest question I've ever asked, but I ask again, "Hey, Two-Bit, when you and Kathy getting hitched?" A sly smile spreads across his face instead of the usual pallor.

**Sorry this chapter is so short! I had a touch of writer's block. Thanks for the reviews as always! Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. **


	26. Chapter 26

So This Is War

Chapter Twenty-Six

**Oh my goodness! Last chapter! Thank you my readers so much for the reviews and for sticking with the story! I know there have been many twists and turns, laughs and cries, and an all around roller coaster. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I have writing! Big shout out to marmapen, Diverging Patronus, EDNACAT, and anyone else who reviewed! Thank you!**

Pony's POV (two months later)

We're finally here. Today is the day. Oh boy... I straighten my tie in the mirror with a trembling hand. Why am I so nervous? I'm not the one getting married. Satisfied the torture device is firmly in place, I go over to help Two-Bit with his. He's sweating bullets over that green face of his. I remember imagining how he'd look shopping for the wedding ring, but this face is pretty close to that. His hand is shaking even worse than mine.

I take a few deep breathes and he follows suit, trying to calm his racing heart. I don't know what he has to worry about. They've been together for almost five years. If they weren't meant for each other, they'd have split a long time ago. It's sad that Two-Bit was the last to figure out they'd get hitched. Even now, ten minutes before the altar, I'm not sure he's really come to terms with it. Love and matrimony are two different things to him.

"Remember the good, Two-Bit," I remind him in the hopes of steadying his nerves.

He grins, probably thinking about all the times he's given that advice to me. Still, he takes it to heart and shuts his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths, the tension rolling off his shoulders. After a moment he reopens his eyes and I can tell it worked. He is visibly more relaxed, reflecting his inner peace. I wish it worked as well for me.

"Well I hope you're happy kid. I'm finally tying the knot."

I chuckle and dust invisible lent off his shoulder. "Absoultely! Today's not about me though and I think you'll be even happier real soon," I say easily.

He shakes his head, more than likely thinking about a later time. I look up at the clock and take some calming breaths of my own. It's time. He follows my gaze and sighs. "Well, it's time," he says gravely like a man in line for the gallows. I can see that bright sparkle of life in his eye. No matter how much he bitches and moans, this is what he actually wants.

I make sure that he's in prime groom condition and we venture out into the hall. Darry, Lacey, and Ash are acting as door greeters in the main lobby so he isn't here, but my other brothers are. Soda whistles at Two-Bit's getup, which isn't much different from his own, and Steve hides a smile under his hand. Ryan chuckles from where he's holding T-Bone's leash. Even T-Bone doesn't seem to recognize his best buddy at first.

With everyone assembled we march down the hall in careful procession. Two-Bit gave us strict orders to treat this half like a funeral. We stop at the side door to the altar and Steve cracks it open to peer out. He brings his head back in and shakes it. They're not quite ready. I squat down to T's level and check to make sure he's as well groomed. After straightening his doggy bow tie, I'm satisfied. Steve checks again, nodding. I give Two-Bit the leash and we all have to push him out, closing the door fast behind him. There's no chickening out of this.

Ryan leaves us with a quick smile to grab a seat in the pews. We go around to the double doors and line up with the bridesmaids. Soda pairs with his wife, Darry with his fiance, Steve is with someone we don't know well, and I get Evie. Steve's Evie. When he found out she was going to be here, he was crushed, but made his peace with it. I still feel guilty. The music starts and the hum inside murmurs down. I march to the slow beat at the head of the column with the Maid of Honor.

I hate being the center of attention. Sweat starts to break out on my forehead as I struggle to stay focused on moving forward. I feel like everyone staring at me knows my dark past, like they know and are judging me as I walk on. Evie knows, but she hasn't said a word. I think she's waiting to see where we're really at in the recovery process. The march is painfully slow because all I want to do it run out of there and away from these piercing eyes. I keep my head straight, showing no fear, and we finally make it to the end of the aisle. I go stand by Two-Bit and T-Bone while Evie goes to her place. I take as deep a breath as I can in the tight suit. Finally the eyes are on someone else.

The others file in and meet me on the side of the altar. It feels good not being an island up here. The music changes to the traditional wedding cadence and everyone rises. We stand taller, our eyes peeled on the double doors. Kathy walks alone down the aisle, looking beautiful in her full white gown. She captures the attention of every living creature in the room. I glance at Two-Bit from the corner of my eye. His face is in total awe. I don't think he'd notice a bomb if it exploded right behind him. He only has eyes for Kathy.

He meets her at the foot of the small stairs and helps her up, not letting her hand go even when they reach their position in front of the preacher. The preacher smiles wordlessly at them, before addressing the room. "We are gathered here today to join these two loved ones, Kathy and Two-Bit, in the holy state of matrimony..." carried his generous voice. He even used Two-Bit's preferred name rather than his real one. The man goes on, captivating the audience as well as Kathy's dress had.

"I, Keith 'Two-Bit' Matthews, take this woman to be my wife through sickness and in health, through good times and bad, until death do us part," Two-Bit echoes the priest, adding in his own nickname. A hushed chuckle sweeps over the crowd and I hand him the ring from my pocket. He takes it, barely containing his overjoyed smile, and places it on her finger.

Kathy's smile reflects his own as she modifies her vows, "I, Kathy Bryant, take this man to be my husband through sickness and in health, through good times and the bad, until death do us part. And I, Kathy, also promise not to kick T-Bone out of the house as long as we both shall live." No one can contain the laugh that time. Even the preacher has to let it out. Kathy and Two-Bit are made for each other, and if it wasn't obvious before it is now.

She puts the ring on Two-Bit's finger and they both look expectantly at the preacher. He drags the moment on before finally announcing the long awaited, "You may now kiss the bride." Two-Bit sweeps her up in a dramatic kiss, dipping her back carefully. Everyone erupts with cheers and applause. I laugh alongside my other brothers and he finally uprights her again. She bends down before T-Bone and gives him a kiss on the top of his head too which gives way to more laughter. Two-Bit helps her up and they face the stairs, their hands wrapped around each other.

"May I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Two-Bit Matthews," the preacher beams. Everyone stands and applauds, the long wait finally over. They walk down the short stairs and Two-Bit literally sweeps her off her feet, carrying her down the aisle. I don't think the grin spreading across my face was any match for theirs. We march down at a bearable pace after them, the attention no longer shifted to me.

We stand next to the happy couple in the lobby and bid farewell to the guests. The rehearsal dinner is up next, but everyone knows that's going to be a party fit only for the young and the crazy. Anyone that knows Two-Bit is sure to show, unless it's the few select older people such as the grandparents. They know too how wild it's going to be.

Finally the wedding party can get moving. We pile into the limo that Two-Bit convinced us to rent and Darry drives us to the reception hall closer to our side of town. It came with liquor collection. By the time Darry parks, we all have at least a shot in us, thanks to Two-Bit. My nerves are much calmer, which is good because the worst part for me is about to begin- the best man's speech.

We climb out of that fancy interior with its alluring booze and saunter into the banquet hall. It's pretty breathtaking. The floors are hardwood, the walls painted with a professional mural. One side of the massive room is a spacious dance floor and the other is full of decorated tables. At the head of the room is one long table for us with two high back chairs in the middle. Every table is decorated with fancy linens, plates, napkins, and floral arrangements. I don't know who's paying for this, but props for class.

The guests arrive and settle in. We sit at our supreme table with bridesmaids on one side of the couple and groomsmen on the other. I'm in between Two-Bit and Darry. The caterers come by and serve the food, complete with banana bread. I smirk at Two-Bit who winks in turn. He may not be the quickest, but he has enough heart to make everyone he loves happy.

The room quiets down in expectation and I take that as my cue. I raise my glass, winning the fight to keep it steady in my trembling hand, which grabs the attention of the room. I've been writing this speech for two months, revising every word tens times over in the hopes of getting it right. Now I'm scrapping all of it. I choose my words carefully, from my heart, and say, "Well, considering y'all are here I'm not too sure what I can tell you that you don't already know about these two lovebirds. So, Two-Bit, I don't think I've ever said it, but you're like a brother to me. You _are_ a brother to me. You've always been there to steer me on the right track, only occasionally trying to get me to swerve a little bit. It never mattered what I said or what I did. You were just always there. And if it weren't for you, I don't think I'd be here today. I guess that says a lot about you, huh? You love unconditionally.

"And Kathy, I don't know if you know this what with all the postponing, but he loves you just as unconditionally. I don't think he knows any other way to love," she snuggles closer to him. "The fact that you're still here says a lot about you. You're either love just as conditionally or are just as crazy as he is so good luck! We all know that you two are meant for each other so I just wanted to remind you both. Welcome to the family, Kath. You're practically a sister to us anyway. Cheers." Then I take a long swallow of champagne to push back the lump in my throat. Getting out the truth, especially in front of an audience, isn't easy. It feels even better than I thought though.

The room erupts in applause and Two-Bit gets up to hug me. I can see the tears in his eyes- of joy this time. Evie makes her speech for Kathy which is just as beautiful and the celebration really begins. Two-Bit's always known how to throw a party. The dance floor opens and people spill onto it in droves. Drinks are flying all around which invites more dancers. I laugh as Soda attempts some professional dance move and lands flat on his face. He's still grinning and hops right up, looking like a fool.

Steve takes over Darry's empty seat and sighs. I follow his forlorn gaze to Evie, in a circle with some of her friends. I roll my eyes. "Why don't you go and talk to her then?" I suggest.

He shrugs. "She'll probably just shut me down. I don't deserve her anyway," he says sadly. Even his eyes are sagging with depression and loss, like the fight is over before it's begun.

I bump him with my shoulder and say, "Not with that attitude. Just go and talk to her Stevie because she came alone, meaning she's probably not over you. Don't give her the time to leave with someone else."

He chews on the inside of his lip, thinking. I slaps me on the back with a determined look and decides, "Alright, I'll do it, Cupid. Don't go getting all sentimental and whatnot on me."

I laugh and flip him the bird. He chuckles, a bright beacon of hope lighting up his eye. I watch him go over and gently tear Evie from her friends. At first she looks annoyed, but she listens to whatever he is saying. The conversation is long and more two-sided than Steve thought. I watch from the corner of my eye, ready to step in for my brother if I have to while trying to give them privacy. After at least a half hour there's finally movement. I look over to see him kneeling and putting the ring back on her finger. She's giving him a second chance. He picks her up, swinging her around, with the widest grin I've ever seen on him. It could almost compete with Two-Bit's. Steve gives me the thumbs up and motions to his ring finger, as if I hadn't seen the whole thing unfold. I nod, offering my own excited smile for him. They both deserve to be happy. They run off to join the throng of people crowding the dance floor.

Someone taps me on the shoulder and I look up from my seat at Ryan. He grins, seeing my feet not following my gaze. "Not a dancer, eh, Curtis?"

I chuckle, "Not like you are either."

He looks down at his bum leg and chuckles warmly. "Hells nah. Never has been. I thinks I gots something that'll change ya mind though."

"Oh yeah?"

He nods with a huge, suspicious, grin on his face. He chimes, "Oh yeahs. I brought a plus one for ya since I knews you wouldn't. Don't worry, she's a real looker."

I groan. He was always trying to set me up. "Look, Ryan... Who is she?" There is no use in arguing with him at this point.

He drags me out of the chair and weaves me around the tables until we get to one in the corner. He has to push me the last few feet when my heart jumps to my throat. "Cherry, this here's Ponyboy. Pony, Cherry. I think yous can hit it off just fine without me," he beams with a wink.

I hiss under my breath as he leaves, "You sonofabitch." That only makes him laugh, continuing on his way. I scratch the back of my head once we're alone and hedge, "So..."

She breathes, "So..."

Without warning we both say in unison, "Look, I'm sorry."

I chuckle and she blushes. I offer her my hand and ask, "Want to dance?" She eagerly accepts and I lead her to the dance floor. My own smile mirrors hers which is bright enough to dazzle the room. We've both made mistakes in the past, but now we have a chance to move on and start fresh. We have a second chance. Things are finally back where they're supposed to be. I'm finally gold again.

We dance the night away until the time comes when we have to part. I know it isn't the end. Her smile says the same thing. I drive her home and go back to mine. For whatever reason, I start thinking about everything. I think about how we first met and our first kiss, our first fight, our first attempt at being friends... That gets me thinking about how this whole adventure came to be- the draft. Through all of it, it doesn't hurt. It just feels like a distant memory that's made me who I am.

I get a pencil out from my desk along with a piece of paper. I know I'm going to need a lot more by the time I'm done. I tap the eraser end on my teeth as I think about where to start and decide to start with the sunrise. I wrote: _"Today was my seventeenth birthday. Darry and Soda had pounced on me, tickling me awake until we all rolled on the floor in a heap on the floor. We disentangled our limbs and sat back, still laughing. Darry gave me a warm smile..."_

**YAY! Pony's come full circle again, such is the way of life. He had some rough patches, but in the end the world kept turning and he jumped back aboard. What did you think? Sorry its come to an end my readers, but all good things do!**


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